Planes, trains, automobiles, Jaeger-bombs, bees, flies....

Remember how my motto has always been "You should always live life like you are telling a story"? So I went to Wisconsin this last weekend.

I should have known Thursday would be a different kind of day when the Max station ticket kiosk wouldn't take plastic. All I had was a twenty dollar bill and a one dollar bill. The fare from my stop to the airport is $2.05.

I transferred at the Beaverton Transit Center, laden with my one suitcase and $18 in Susan B. Anthony dollars. Nice. The Red Line starts at the BTC, but I guess I didn't realize that it would just be parked there when I got off my train. Sure enough, I am waiting for it to show up for 17 min, and when the sign said "Due", the bell clanged and I turned around and this train that was sitting there the entire time I was standing there pulled out of the station. Nice. Missed it. Dork Girl dutifully sat down and waited another 17 minutes for the next one. I'm not really good at public transportation.

At the airport I had plenty of time for a coffee and for some reason I just had a feeling when I looked at the plane at the end of the jetway. Not sure what it was that made me look at it. The first flight, Portland to Salt Lake, was about an hour and a half, but just as the drink service was in full swing, the flight attendants started sort of wigging out. It was definitely bumpy, but I attribute that to the air over mountains - remember I blew out both eardrums coming back from a trip that travelled over Utah due to extreme turbulance. Apparently it felt different to the flight attendants this time as one of them started yelling that they needed the captain to tell them to get rid of the drink cart so they could sit down. It sounded panicked. They apologized, raced down the aisle and dove into their jumpseats. I generally look to the flight attendants to see if they are panicky when flights get bumpy - they were strapped in so it was hard to see their faces.

So the nose of the plane is now, seriously, pointing downward and we are no where near Salt Lake, and suddenly the plane makes that noise that you hear on cartoons, you know, like when a plane is spiraling downward? Sort of a "NYYYYEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAARRRRRRRRR" and the plane is definitely not going straight, or up, or even over, but down. I am flipping out. But, you know, inside, because you still gotta look cool. After several Acts of Contritions and promises to God, I started taking stock of the things in my life, and figured I have lived a pretty good one so far, and by the time I managed to make some sort of peace, the plane leveled out and we continued on. Drink service resumed (for about another 5 minutes, then they just gave up and handed out water) and ultimately we landed in Salt Lake. I think the pilots were new. There were EMTs at the end of the jetway when we walked through, checking out one of the flight attendants' heart or something. I was shaking like a leaf, but I had about 10 minutes to go three concourses to my connection and frankly I was just happy to be on the ground.

The flight to Milwaukee (okay, Wisconsin) was smooth enough - we were on a smaller plane, no first class, two-and-two, and the guy across the aisle from me was 6'6'' and not comfortable. They mentioned "weather conditions" in Milwaukee, but I wasn't sure what that was about, so I started to read and nap off and on. Fast forward to our approach, as it was - we were circling Madison, and not making much of a move east toward Milwaukee when the pilot advised us that the fog was way too thick to land there. I am no geography major, so I turned to 6'6" Guy and asked, "Fog?" He told me (and the others around us) that it has been cold at night there and the fog was coming off the lake. Nice. The pilot circled a few more times and finally we landed - in Madison. There was a lot of talk of deplaning if you chose to, but not getting luggage anywhere but Milwaukee, and then they were letting some off and others not, and Greg (6'6" Guy) decided to reserve a car at Madison just in case. I phoned Marita and Dave and they considered coming to Madison, an hour's drive, and then we would get the luggage Friday, another hour's drive from Fond du Lac. Pain in the ass.

The powers that be, after an hour on the ground in Madison, on the plane, with no food beyond peanut butter crackers that I split with Greg (he's a big guy), decided that we would in fact fly into Milwaukee tonight, so batten down, here we go. We backed up, and stopped, and sat for another hour. By this time, Marita and Dave had been advised to hang out somewhere near the Milwaukee airport, as I was coming soon enough. Greg and I chatted and traded stories and generally didn't realize so much that we were stuck sitting there for another hour, and finally they came back on and said, Yeah, you know, we aren't going anywhere, so we will all deplane and you can even get your luggage. A bus will come and take you to Milwaukee airport and all will be well. It was about 11:30 (my flight was due to arrive at around 8:35). We get off (the flight attendant thanked me for my laughing - that it helped her get through the wait - that was nice, huh?), and race to the rental car desk (it was still open) and Greg tells me I'm in - call your friends and tell them you are coming to them. Flipping NICE people in Wisconsin, I'm telling you. Our luggage comes, I get to smoke a few cigs, and off we race, Greg, Troy (another business traveller from in front of Greg) and myself, off to Milwaukee. He actually dropped me off Moreland Road, not as far as the airport, so that the drive from there to Fond du Lac wouldn't be so harrowing. Where ever he is, the Gods are smiling on him. He was a Godsend and I appreciate having met him.

So Marita, Dave and I arrived in Fond du Lac finally at around 2am. I hadn't eaten at all besides the crackers, so they popped in a pizza and I finally got to bed around 4. Exhausted but happy to be alive.

That was Day One. Imagine what's in store when I have the strength to continue... because this post IS -

to be continued...