Mark’s Bloomin’ Journal

Am long overdue to flee this miserable grey town that has just managed to get itself recognized as “the most miserable city ” in which to live in the USA. It is self absorbed right now with a mayor, the epitome of Portland’s new found metrosexuality ( tree felling, farming and fishing are frowned upon here now) who turns out rather to have a penchant for the underage male and a sack full of lies to go along with what he would have stump town’s gullible and stupidly tolerant consider a mere peccadillo. Add to that some pale faced woman at U of O whose power trip of transparently veiled threats to see the old White Satin/White Stag/Made In Oregon sign “go dark” if she and the powers in Eugene (likely the second most miserable place in the US) don’t get their way in changing its neon garish statement to promote “The Ducks” of all things. Maybe we should just call in “A Beaver” to chop the damn thing down. Geez, are we not now all scared witless when piling this on top of all the really serious stuff in life just now? Only in Portland, OR could the self promoting, made for TV pompous classes with the chichi spectacles a la Palin of Alaska, dodge the potholes, a sales tax, bums and collapsing bridges to add their verbal drizzle to the incessant meteorological kind. Thank heavens for little green apples, a few Republicans out on the farthest reaches of Sauvie Island and direct Delta flights to JFK.

The fact the flight requires a 4 am turnout is nothing to the thrill of leaving the forest and dropping in on Manhattan and a courtesy upgrade can only improve the mood. Prior to bag pack and catnap I see reports of an imminent late season snow storm for the city and other parts of the east coast with numbers ranging from 5″-10″ of snow on Long Island. Now that could well add a complication or two to a very tight schedule. The one hour delay at the gate begins to raise eyebrows and the native New Yorkers are reveling in talking too loudly into their cell phones (come to think of it, that volume comes quite  naturally) to those back home in the city watching the snow come down, the yellow cabs getting crumpled and the dogs in jackets having to hitch their legs ever higher. I board and from a comfy and rather snooty 1B I pay attention to the flight crew who are now talking about diverting to Syracuse. Nothing against Syracuse… it didn’t make the list of miserable places to live after all, but I really don’t need stranded there watching the minutes and meetings evaporate to no avail. Its decision time!  To make the gamble that NYC can re arrange itself given 24 hrs, or not? Trying not to look like one who would be profiled, complete with sweat beaded brow I get up and ask the pilot and stewardess if, with Syracuse in the near future might I not get off the flight and try again tomorrow. The “ladies that lunch’ set that are filling the rest of business class while clutching tickets to see The Rachel Ray Show are already wary of me, as when asked what I was off to NYC for and my answer being ‘lunch with Clinton Kelly’ look at me like Botox’d dirrigible’s deflated. Seeing my discourse with the captain, my grabbing a bag from overhead and the contortions back into my overcoat they are wide eyed (the nip and tuck kind) and mute. I am still in the jetway when the door thunks shut and I can go about changing tickets, meetings and savoring the prospect of avoiding Syracuse or a yellow cab sled ride on Long Island with a musher from Guinea Bissau or Eritrea.

Tuesday 4 am is just as early, cold dark and miserable as same time prior day but the Delta counter staff are chuffed to see me and laugh at my last second escape from a none specific destination. Seat 2A replaces 1B which affords beautiful views of a snow bound continent and the breathtaking panorama of Manhattan, Ellis Island et al as we glide down the Hudson and out to sea for a left downwind and final approach into a still snowy JFK. The sky is clear blue and brilliant sunlight bounces and mirrors off ocean and snow bank alike. There is not a hint of grey in anything here. New York has never looked so beautiful and so full of opportunity. I make mention to Mariam, a fellow traveller and a relative newcomer from Iran that it is 33 years ago that I made passage to the USA and touched down at this same airport on a TWA flight from London. I was welcomed in with an immigration officers words “Buddy, I wouldn’t let you take my dog for a walk” all those years ago when the B747’s were full of cigarette smoke, leg room and (complimentary) boozed up Brits. Mariam, also fleeing from the US’s most miserable place is en route to Athens. I might have been envious but not with that sun sparkled city and still perfectly white snow in front of me, I can’t wait to escape into the city.

Cab buddy?

This entry was posted on Tuesday, March 10th, 2009 at 6:39 pm and is filed under Business, Flowerbud, Musings, Travel, Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.