I had every intention to get out of Portland on Saturday. I even went to the airport. I even checked in and walked to the gate.
Then I made a phone call to this couple to come and get me;
Robin (on the right) and I went to school together. Greg (on the left) married Robin and gave her babies about sixteen years ago, though we lost track of one another about a year later. I know this because they have a fifteen and sixteen year old, only one of whom (or maybe both) barely existed the last time we were in one another’s midst.
There’s not very many things I’m good at but not losing track of people is one of them. For some reason, their track got lost. Fortunately we reconnected in an immediate explosion of reminiscing, and catching up. After a full afternoon together, my time to bail had come and they very thoughtfully they took me to meet my plane.
Shortly before I boarded I spoke with my beloved wife and explained some plans I had begun to hatch with Greg. She asked if I was gonna come back to finalize any of them, or simply because I was already here, if I’d just like to extend my stay and handle things now.
I assume because I was half in the bag at the time, I opted for that, at which time, as I said, my people came back to fetch me.
The upshot of the whole thing is aside from the following photo of an A-Team replica van I saw outside of PDW– (my visit to them was fruitless, as apparently people in Portland don’t go to work on Friday);
And watching Cheever randomly shooting off bottle rockets after breakfast;
– I don’t have much in the way of a conclusion regarding my time in Portland, but I can almost promise that I will for Wednesday.