Poor Littlejeans

After a harrowing 11-hour journey (including a time change), I have arrived in Oregon. When I stepped off the plane yesterday it was 65 degrees and raining, and I thought, “Well, I better get used to it.” Although apparently this is the first time it’s rained, really, all summer, and they’ve been having a heat wave.

C’est la vie.

The worst part was, once we arrived in Forest Grove after an almost 2-hour train ride from the airport (the airport is on the other side of Portland, and there was an unusual transfer over one of the bridges because of construction), then a 30-minute bus ride, we had to walk about 15 minutes in almost pouring rain to Jody’s apartment, carrying one giant suitcase, two smaller “carry-on” suitcases, a backpack, and a cat! Neither of us had really eaten all day, either, save for a bag of Doritos in the Phoenix airport. Not even on the plane, because fucking US Airways charges $2 even for a cup of water, and I’d rather die of dehydration than pay that bullshit. Then, of course, being a small town, pretty much everything to eat is closed, save for a McDonald’s drive-thru, which we both would have happily eaten, but it was too far to walk and Jody doesn’t have a car. So we headed down to the corner store to buy a frozen pizza or something (after trying to call Domino’s to deliver something to us, and having them not answer even though they’re supposed to be open until midnight), but the corner store had no frozen pizza. We ended up with a can of Pringles, a 2-liter of Sprite, a box of Hamburger Helper Tomato Basil Penne to make without the meat, and a Hostess apple pie. How’s that for some ingenuity? I think I’ve taken for granted, for quite a long time now, the benefits of living in a city like Austin, where, no matter what neighborhood you’re in, there are many culinary offerings, usually pretty nearby, even late at night. It’s sort of shocking to be someplace where you just can’t get any food after 10pm. So after unwinding with that and two episodes of Will & Grace on cable, we both fell into bed and were dead to the world.

But I slept for a good 9 hours, and I’m now up and ready to start the day. It’s not raining anymore, but it’s very brisk and cool, and outside my bedroom window is a view of fog-shrouded mountains. Also, on the plane yesterday, I started reading Twilight. I’m about halfway through. It’s a weird book. Like, on the one hand, I was a better writer than Stephanie Meyer when I was in elementary school, but on the other hand, eventually you get past that and the story really does begin to engage you. The first 50 or 60 pages, though, I kept rolling my eyes to myself in astonishment at how this book got published in the first place and wanting to put the book down and go back to my Andre Dubus, which I’ve already read, but had with me. But I didn’t. And I guess now I’m beginning to understand the appeal a little bit. Though I was a little embarrassed to be reading it on the plane: I saw no less than 6 (!) teenage girls on the same plane reading various books in the series. And those were just the ones I saw.

Today is the Forest Grove farmer’s market. We’re going to make a delicious dinner tonight!


3 responses to “Poor Littlejeans

  1. I had a similar night in Mexico. I ended up buying the Mexican version of Hostess snack cakes, a can of beans and a couple of cans of Modelo beer, trudged barefoot through the flooded streets (swirling with swill and offal) because I didn’t want to ruin my shoes, and it was only after I arrived at my hotel room that I remembered that I had no can opener.

  2. Yay, Twilight!

    I’m glad you made it in one piece, even if your journey was less than ideal. I’m jealous of your weather and new city and fresh start.

  3. Meredith, that story is really sad. I happened to be wearing good shoes yesterday, too, because I think people should look nice when they travel (certainly a forgotten art in the United States, where it seems like most people dress down as much as possible to travel), and by the time we got home they were indeed soaked. Also, the thought of looking forward to eating shitty food only to find that even that isn’t possible is, somehow, especially heartbreaking. Although neither of us were particularly into the Hamburger Helper once we made it. We didn’t even finish it.

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