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The Long Trip Home
I feel as if I were a piece in a game of chess, when my opponent says of it: That piece cannot be moved.
-- Soren Kierkegaard
Monday, February 26, 2001
One year ago: Potlatch II
Two years ago: Swing THIS!
Three years ago: Relieved
Sunday morning, the only remaining piece of programming for Potlatch 10 was The Maturation of Maturity, a panel on the Theodore Sturgeon story "Maturity". This was interesting because they compared the original magazine version of the tale, with the revised version that was published in a Sturgeon collection a few years later. This is one of a very few times that Sturgeon did much rewriting -- he usually wrote in a white heat, diving in and continuing until done. That's why he's more noted for short stories than for longer works, of course.
The interest of the story was Sturgeon's attempt to depict a "superhuman" character. An eternally precocious man gets hormone treatments and grows up. Some readers related this to Sturgeon's own ADD-type of personality. It was interesting comparing the two versions of the story -- we could read them both in the convention's book of honor, Thunder and Roses. I don't know that the second version was a particular improvement, though.
Jack and I checked out and stowed our luggage with the bellmen, then went to the banquet. It was a tasty lunch! Then it was time for the Clarion West auction, always a fun event.
Ellen Klages and Tom Whitmore were auctioneers. I managed to get a video of the first Portland Santa Rampage, in 1996. I've always wanted to see it! Luke and I were bidding against each other for a few items, but he let me get this one. Jack bought a book.
We got a van to the airport at our scheduled time, no problem.
* * * * * * * *
But when we got to the airport, big problem -- oh no! our flight was canceled. Some planes hadn't made the flight in early in the morning, due to weather problems elsewhere. We got stuck on standby - all day! It was torture to see the flights leave with no room for us. The waiting list was rolled over each time.
It was no fun, sitting around in the crowded gate areas. We read our books, and Jack played his backpackers guitar. Soon it seemed like we'd always been there. Some surreal version of "No Exit."
Finally, the last flight for the day left without us, around ten in the evening. We'd already been waiting there since three o'clock! What would the airline do with us? We trudged to the main ticket counter, where they had someone helping folks like us. Actually, I think they were only intended to help people who had missed connections, not canceled flights, but we weren't going away. Jack finagled hotel vouchers and meal vouchers. They didn't have to do this, because the cancellation was considered to be weather-related. Plus, we got booked on a flight, to Portland then Seattle, around noon the next day. the last two seats!
Of couse, if we'd known that we couldn't get home that day, we'd have turned around and gone back to the convention and enjoyed the dead dog party! But that's the way it was.
* * * * * * * *
We wandered out and found the van that would take us to the travelodge, right near the airport. We were soo tired! A man from Seattle was in the same boat. After we all got checked in, we ate in the Denny's with him, sharing a big carafe of juice.
The motel was an older one, and of course our room was at the far end of the compound. There was a seemingly endless series of buildings, one or two stories tall. I was concerned about the stern security warnings on the inside of the hotel room door -- I'm sure they wouldn't say such things if it wasn't needed. But we didn't see any odd characters lurking around, and no one pounded on our door.
We had no luggage, no clothing, no contact lens stuff. (We'd foolishly agreed to have our bags checked, so they had preceded us to Seattle.) They had complimentary toothbrushes at the desk, with the tiniest, cutest little tubes of toothpaste! Jack walked over to the gas station and bought a brush and comb. We collapsed into bed around midnight!
* * * * * * * *
This morning we took a van back to the airport, then had "breakfast" in the pizza hut. We got our money's worth out of those meal vouchers! It was an incredible relief to get on the plane.
Only one more transfer, onto a small puddlejumper to go from Portland to Seattle. We were in the back row, with me in the seat that has the aisle in front of it. I have respect for the efficiency of the one flight attendant -- she managed to get us all served drinks and cookies in a very short flight.
Our luggage was still sitting in a big line on the floor. Lots of other people had been in the same situation as us! We called the parking lot people and got picked up right away.
* * * * * * * *
I rode south with Jack to Olympia, where he was picking up his daughter A----. She'd been first at her grandparents' on the Klickitat river, then at her mom's for the past few days. Jack didn't want her hanging around Bellingham for the previous week with nothing to do.
Jack dropped me off at my place on the way back north. A fun weekend but a very tough return journey!
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