Getting There: Part 1 (One Year Ago Today - 08.08-09.2012)

Hehe. :]

So, I'm glad you read my previous post, "Before the Departure" (One Year Ago Today series - prologue).
I hope that didn't frustrate any of you. (angst would have me embittered by now.)

So, the first day... was Wednesday, August 8th, 2012.

Honestly, the first day is always the most boring to write about, because you talk about...... the airport.

Don't get me wrong:
I thoroughly enjoy being in an airport.
I would work at one.
Watch "The Terminal" and you'll understand my plight.

Yet, in comparison to the rest of the trip, it's not as exciting. But, I am glad I had a traveler journal with me, so as to write down my stories & moments, which I would otherwise forget. especially at the airport.
(I highly recommend some kind of journal wherever you go, so as to embrace the small moments later.) :)

5:00 a.m.

PDX
~Geometric green carpet, tattered to a blunt blueish tint.
~Five concourses that divide into an unfair "A, B, C", leaving "D, E" as the awkward couple. (They sound and even almost look alike.)
~Surpassing glass windows that make a mosaic of views from the security checkpoints.
~The workers.

The workers sometimes have either:
1) blind spots in their vision,                  or
2) a haste to finish talking with you the moment they ask you a question.

While Dad & I were in line to check-in our 2 hefty suitcases...
a lady from our airline dressed in sassy red approached us.

"Unaccompanied minor traveling?"

First of all, Dad is fully decked with airport gear. Meaning:
his head-rest is around the arm,
his passport & itinerary are held by hand,
his carry-on bag is slung over him...
and he looks like a traveling businessman with his authoritative disposition overall.

Second of all, did I look like a minor? Hmm....
Maybe my tid-bit feeble & freaked-out excited state transferred into "inexperienced young traveler" for her.

The moment we confusingly replied "No", she directed us to print our boarding passes from the booths. And, by her protocol, we accomplished the task (though, with at least 100 people in line, we felt terribly rushed).

After checking in, we scurried through the security check-point (my favorite part!)

"Pull out all electronic devices!"

"All liquids in a Zip-Lock bag, please!"

"Remove your shoes & belt, and place them into a container!"

The rush is the exciting part!

You never know if you'll get stopped for a full-on check.
It could all be the cause of a bobby-pin, ladies. ;)


Dad & I breakfasted at a tiny, Portland diner, and were served by the wonderful Bernadette.
(Bernadette: "brave as a bear")
Enough food to last us for the next 20 hours!
A country breakfast....yum.
Probably the last meal made completely by the help of chemicals.

Honestly, that continental flight was wonderful, yet so faded in my memory.

Why?
               We slept the whole flight. -_-


All I remember is stepping into JFK, and remembering how much I disliked it.

JFK
~Stench of 1980's Old Spice, old plastic, & old MacDonald's.
~People drooping on the ground, in their "attire" (chuh, puh - pajamas...) & with drooling faces.
~Chickadees swooping below the gates for scraps of travelers' snacks, carelessly crumbed about the cement from a rush to the next terminal.
~Stinky.
~Gross.
~Muggy.
~Outdated.

The only thing I really liked was the New Yorker accent of the cashiers. :)

"Thyat wood be fo'aive dallas, miss, fo' thuh m'yagahzeene."

Awesome...
(Just imagine someone speaking through their nose, too.)

While meandering around the indoor shops at JFK and waiting for our boarding, we decided that coffee was the only fuel to power us through our wait (plus some beef jerky).
So, lo & behold.... Starbucks.

Now, Pops likes to be funny sometimes (and that means, always).
So, while ordering some sort of sophisticated coffee that could be the cause of your ruined afternoon if you disappointingly made it wrong for my father, Pops decided to fake a name.

(Of course it's fun to fake a name, if it's something mysterious & intriguing...like Esmeralda or Jehoshaphat.)

"Sir, your name, please?"
   He get's funny with a deceiving grin. "My name is Papa."
"Babba?" She's so lost in her drooping eyes & fumbled hold on the Sharpie.
   "PAPA," he mouths widely.
"What is it??"
   "PAAAPA." The prolonged 'a' was meant to make it sound clearer, I assume.

At a loss for any more communication, it appeared that she heard the name & began to write it.
But guess what?

My Pops was now "Bob".

                                                                                Yes... Bob.

A name that I would never imagine for him.
He is antithetical to what Bob is & ever would be.

But he still drinks Bob's latte, because even if he is not Bob, Bob now owes him.

I imagine that if the barista actually checked his ID after he sipped from the cup, it could have been a joke-able case of identity [theft]².



As we continued meandering with Pop's minor, careless identity-crisis-of-a-coffee & my Tuchina-inspired Iced Coffee, I found a dashing pair of studly aviators, with a price as big as my paycheck.

But don't you think he looks studly in this pair? B)

We took it pretty easy afterwards, with the 4-hour layover.

We didn't want to spend much money (yet), but Dove seemed like a good snack compromise between wasabi peas & Pringles.



The next thing I remember was landing in Prague.
All those 7+ hours in between.....

...could be summarized like so:

Scrumptious Delta biscuit, with Ginger Ale.


They did feed us other ... things, but that combination is the whole reason why I still look forward to airplane food.


But, I can tell you this (from memory, the sunrise):

When the sky is blacker than pitch, it feels deeper, as an ocean of air.
Invisible, no waves, but all is blacked by the universe's darkest envelopment around us, only the pricks of the Big Dipper gliding before our sight.
But then the faintest glimmer of lighter violet streaks the horizon, a sharp hope growing thicker.

Then the layers come, a burning of color.
First, dark to light blue.
   Second, maroon to crimson.
      Third, faded orange, supporting a faint pale yellow.

Then, it all burns neon and grows rapidly into... the sunrise.


And then, when it felt most surreal, we landed in Prague. :]


(next post is Part 2)