so today . . . was the end of our oregon vacation.
my dad bravely hoisted our luggage ("what is in these bags?!?! why do you bring so much stuff?!?!" clearly my dad does not understand the shoe and wardrobe needs of a certain girl . . . or the electronic needs of the other one,) into his trunk, and we headed for the airport. the drive was uneventful--ok, well there were a few close calls, but no bumpers bumped, and no wrong exits were taken, so i call that good. when we arrived, we headed for the parking structure.
to enter the parking structure, you are forced to drive up a circular ramp. my view from the back seat did not include the guard rail positioned for safety along the outer edge. so when my dad suddenly straightened out the car, i saw my life flash before my eyes, because it looked to me like we were headed over the edge!
thankfully we were just headed onto the third level to park.
we went in, checked our bags (yes, that cost us $20 each!) ate lunch, and made it through security, all without incident. we sat down to put ourselves back together after the ordeal the TSA likes to call 'reasonable' security measures, and diandra asked me if i had any lotion. i said i did, and handed her the bottle i had in my purse. i found this lotion when i was cleaning out some bathroom cabinets last week. it was in a small, cute bottle and smelled delicious, so i thought it would be good to take on our trip. now we were on our way home, and i hadn't used it yet. she put a little on her leg, and said, "mom, what is this? i can't rub it in!" i said, "it is just some lotion i found in the cabinet." i picked up the bottle and looked at it again. yep, made by nivea. they make hand lotion. she continued trying to rub it in. "mom, it isn't working. look. it is turning white and spreading around." hmmm. i didn't know what to tell her. i looked at the bottle for a third time. and then i saw it. uh oh.
"what?" diandra said. she reads me too well. because i was busy stuffing the offending "lotion" back into my purse and hoping the goo on her legs would soon magically disappear. "what, mom! what it is? it isn't lotion, is it?!?!" no, it wasn't lotion. it was body wash.
i have got to get those new glasses!
diandra just looked at me. i was laughing. she was laughing too, although hers had a little edge to it, like "ok, this might be funny if it was someone else, but my legs are covered in sticky, white goop!" i started rooting around in my purse. "do you want a tissue? would that help?" i asked. again, the look! in hindsight, offering a tissue probably wasn't the best idea. it would have probably just stuck to the body wash, and then her legs would have been covered in white goo and fuzzy pieces of tissue.
did i mention she was wearing shorts?
she finally made most of it disappear, and turned to me and said, "i am going into that store over there and buy some LOTION!" ok . . . of course, i followed her into the store . . .
there is something about stores in airports that is irresistible to me. i don't know what it is, but i have this compelling need to buy souveniers. or something! so while diandra was trying to find lotion, i was looking at t-shirts. yes, t-shirts that said 'portland' on them.
this is wrong for so many reasons. first of all, i grew up in portland. when i go there, i am going home. having a t-shirt that says 'portland' on it, would imply that it was some exotic destination for me. but the truth is, i don't go there to see the sights--i go there to see my mom and dad! secondly, i don't wear souvenier t-shirts. ever. because if my shirt has words and pictures on it, can i accessorize it with jewels? no. that would just be wrong. so i should probably buy a souvenier bracelet or earrings rather than a t-shirt. and thirdly, there was no place to try them on, so how would i know if they would even fit properly. but they were on sale for $8.88! how could i not buy one?!?
i managed to resist the siren song of oregon souveniers, diandra made her purchases, and we moved on. after a stop at the restrooms, where diandra tried somewhat unsuccessfully to remove the body wash (apparently it was not as easy as one might think it would be,) we got to our gate just in time to board the plane. "are we going to be on another small plane?" diandra asked (with a bit of a wary look in her eye--for some reason she was convinced the whole lotion/body wash thing was not an accident.) "yes," i said. "it is a bombardier--the same type of plane we were on before." "well, that sounds kind of mean," she said. i had no idea what she meant, but it was time to board . . .
alaska/horizon airplanes do not all look alike. we flew from long beach to seattle on the oregon state university plane. and we saw the university of oregon plane on the ground in seattle. they seem to like to decorate their aircraft in different and unique ways. as we walked toward our plane, on the nose it said 'bombardier' and had a number and a person's name. i'm sure there was some significance to it, but i didn't know what. and then diandra said, "oooohhh, bombardier!" "yes, that is what i said," i said. diandra replied, "i thought you said bomb-a-deer!"
ok, before you think that is a totally unreasonable thought, there is a lot of forest area in the pacific northwest, and a lot of deer. however, bombing them from passenger planes is still not an accepted way to bag one and put it in your freezer. at least, as far as i know . . .
as our plane took off from portland, headed for seattle (i know that is not the most direct way home, but alaska/horizon thinks everyone should spend some time in the seattle airport,) i heard the young woman sitting behind me ask a flight attendant for a blanket for her bird--yes, there was a bird in a box in the seat behind me. and apparently it was cold.
some days, my blog almost writes itself . . .