2008-09-19

The Oregonian Adventure, Part One

Now that we've gotten the unpleasant END to my Oregonian Adventure out of the way, let's take the WayBack machine to the BEGINNING...

Wednesday, Sept. 10th, 2008. 11PM PST:
By the time we land at Portland International Airport, I'm weepy and exhausted. I hate flying, I worked half a day at the office before hauling my luggage on the subway, we BARELY made our connecting flight to Portland from NYC (thanks, JetBlue!), it's PK's birthday and I haven't sent her anything yet, and I got stuck on the 5+ hour flight next to a girl who'd pounded 5 single-serve bottles of nasty JetBlue "wine" in just under 90 minutes and was weepily asking me if I thought long-distance relationships were healthy. Thus began the "theme" of our vacation: "It's gonna be a BIG WEEK."

The Radisson was pretty much what one would expect: a business traveler's hotel. Nothing spectacular, and a hairdryer that was even sadder than what I'd dubbed "the world's SADDEST" back in Nashville. But it had a bed, so, you know, awesome. I passed out.

Thursday, Sept. 11, 2008:
As expected, my dad called us at the crack of ass. This is the way of my parents, bless 'em. 6:30 AM, to John and Betty, is "sleeping in." By 6:30 AM, while you're not even THINKING of waking up, John and Betty have played 18 holes and/or gone to water aerobics, had breakfast, completed the NYT crossword puzzle AND that of the local paper, and scrapbooked the entire experience.

We're off to Hood River! The aunts will be arriving! It's Jeffy's wedding!

Jeffy. "Jeffy" is now Vice President of Freewire Broadband. He's JEFF. Has been for years. And he's getting married.

Pffft. He's still Jeffy.

We arrive in bucolic Hood River and almost immediately find a diner for breakfast. Bette's. I have the GREATEST OMELET EVER and start feeling better. Then it's up into the hills, to the home which my Aunt Michelle and Uncle Dave (Jeffy's parents) have rented. The family is referring to it as "Wedding Central," and indeed, when we arrive, we are stepping over spools of pale green ribbon, wee little gift boxes stuffed with salt water taffy, and other assorted nuptial bric-a-brac.

It takes a village and all, but I have to say that my many aunties -- on BOTH sides -- have all had a profound influence on me. There are 20+ years between my mother and her youngest sister, and just about the same between my dad and HIS youngest sister. Subsequently, I have first cousins who are now grandparents, and first cousins who have just entered junior high school. And there are loads of these cousins...just loads. I won't even get into the once-and-twice removed cousins; I hate to say it, but I can name about 4 of those, and I'm in regular contact with 2.

Fortunately, on my mom's side, there are just eight of us first cousins to keep track of: Bill, Lisa, Tina, Greg, Josh, Jeffy, Mike and Maggie. I'm pretty sure that's all of us. Mike will pipe up in the comments section if I'm wrong.

Anyway, yeah, the aunties. I watch them, their gestures and expressions and ways of conveying things, and it's terrifying how like them I am. Mike even told me: "Y'know - the older you get the more you look like my mother."

Dave and Michelle take us over to the Columbia Gorge Hotel, where the wedding is taking place, and my ghost radar kicks WAY THE FUCK into overdrive. It gets me as I'm standing by the old service elevator next to the ballroom. This place is haunted as HELL. I say as much to Dave, and he sort of smiles and says, "It IS, innit?"

We go back to Wedding Central, and have a nice dinner on the deck overlooking the Columbia River. We bitch loudly and passionately about McCain/Palin, then it's back to Portland, as my sister will be arriving that evening.

Friday, Sept. 12, 2008:
The phone rings at 6:25 AM. It's my sister. She realizes that she's woken me up and says: "DAD told me you wanted to go the gym."

"Uhhhh, sure. I just wasn't ready to go to the gym RIGHT NOW."

I hear my mother laughing hysterically in the background. "You WOKE HER UP! HAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!"

Well, I'm UP now, so I groggily put on my gym togs and go down there. Dad's on the treadmill, Tina's on one of the elliptical machines. I grunt at the two of them and get on the other elliptical.

Now everyone get in the car! It's off to Multnomah Falls!

I am 38 years old, my sister is 36. We are both highly educated, working "professional" women, but sitting in the backseat of my dad's rental car, we are once again 13 and 11. We loudly discuss Tina's inability to poop after a long flight, we burp and congratulate one another on a "nice out," and we engage in our FAVORITE backseat pastime: Making Dad Insane By Quoting ENDLESSLY From The 1979 Shaun Cassidy Classic "Like Normal People."

This is just one of many, many, MANY infantile and borderline-offensive things that we do to amuse ourselves. As we're both fond of reminding our parents: "You both worked! We had to RAISE OURSELVES! We did the BEST WE COULD!"

Our new thing now is to act like Victoria Beckham or the Olsen Twins when photographed. We want to ruin as many family pictures as possible. Say "PRUNE," girls!

Dad no fun. Dad no say "prune." Dad big stick in mud.

We swung by the Vagabond, fetched my Aunt Connie and Uncle Jim, then headed up to Mount Hood, and our next adventure: The Timberline Lodge, which - as my mother pointed out (because she's the only one whose head is a bigger warehouse of random shit than mine) - was used for all the exterior shots in "The Shining."

I was only moderately spooked by the place, oddly enough. It didn't get me nearly as much as the Columbia Gorge Hotel. They have awesome veggie chili.

to be continued...

lisamcc at 6:53 p.m.



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