So the end of our summer has come, and we've finally been apart for almost 24 hours now. Melissa took off for Annah's Bachelorette party, and I was supposed to fly out of Portland this morning so that I could get back to Bloomington in time for orientation.

I got up at 4am to start my day. My plan was to call a taxi to get to the airport, as bus/tram service doesn't start early enough on the line Annah lives near. So I called the cab company with no answer. Three times I called between 4 and 4:30, and never got an answer. So I decided I'd walk over to MLK blvd and get the early bus that went to the tram.

That seemed to work ok, even though I don't really care for walking through the city in the dead of night with no one around except homeless folks and cats. But I got the bus and all seemed to be going well.

A few stops down, we picked up a dreadlocked guy who was keeping himself occupied by staring at his ticket through a cardboard tube. That was ok until he started stumbling around the bus while doing it. After he wandered around the bus for a while, the driver pulled over and told him to get off the bus. Well, the guy didn't understand English so well. I'm not clear on how well he understood it sober, but he definitely didn't get it in his condition this morning.

In any case, the driver ended up getting up, yelling at the guy, then calling the police to get the guy off when Mr. Tube didn't get the hint. For a while, the driver, the safety guy and myself (the only other passenger) just hung out on the side of the road while our companion entertained himself on the bus. Before the police arrived, but using up enough time that I missed my tram, the drunkard/druggie stumbled off the bus and started talking to me about smoking. The impression I got was that he was too drunk to know his lighter from his keys, or something like that. While he was thus distracted talking to me, the driver and safety rider jumped back on the bus. I said something peremptory to the man, probably no more intelligible than most of what he was telling me, and quickly got back on the bus myself, whereupon the driver closed the door and called back to tell the police he was leaving the guy on the curb of whatever road we were on.

It was an interesting incident, though not interesting enough to justify me being late for my plane, which is what happened.

The long and the short of it is that I got off the light rail at 6:23am, my plane left moments before 7am, and by the time I even got to the counter, they had given my seat to someone else. We worked that out, but by the time I got through security, they had uncoupled the plane and started the takeoff procedure. I was told I could get on the next connecting flight to Salt Lake City, but it would be $50 (a sum that I didn't have). I asked if they could type a credit card number into the computer, and they said no, but I could call and perhaps pay over the phone. I asked to talk to a manager, who was entirely unsympathetic and gave me their customer service number so that I could talk to someone and work it out.

She didn't mention that the Customer Service line is only open Monday through Friday. I wasn't impressed. So I called their online booking agent, who is open 24-7, and tried to pay them $50 that I didn't want to pay. After explaining the whole situation to the folks on the phone, they said they couldn't help me because even though I was flying on a Delta plane, it had been booked through NorthWest. So they cancelled the remaining part of my flight and gave me NWA's number. What fun!

At that point, I was stuck in Portland International Airport with $20.50 in my pocket, no money in my checking account (I took it all out to give to Melissa so she'd have some cash while I was back in Bloomington for the week), and no ticket. I decided to go back through the security barrier to try and get on the standby list.

Unfortunately, I was informed that there were 3 people in front of me and regardless, it was $25 to get put on the list. If I wanted to pay $100 I could get a confirmed seat, but they also didn't accept any payment except a swiped card or cash. So I tried to call NWA on the phone and book, but they said that the only seat I could get was a $1200 upgrade from my old one. Umm... no chance.

I called Melissa to talk things over, and she suggested trying to get the $5 and going standby. I tried Powell's Books, and offered Oil by Upton Sinclair ( I was told it was not in good enough shape), World's End by the same (too old, try the downtown store) and Thomas More's Utopia (great book, no way anyone else in the airport would buy it). Then I tried the ATM to see if I could just take out $10, but it was a minimum of $20 and I don't have it.

So I went back to the NWA counter to ask what they did if someone's magnetic strip on their card was broken or something. After going through the whole story with some folks, one of their counter managers suggested that I just start going around a) knocking over old ladies and taking their bags or b) flattering the younger ones and begging for the $25. I didn't seem to take to either idea, so he then asked how far short I was. I said I needed $4.50, and he said that he'd chip in to help me out.

So this saint of a airline employee bought the last $5 of my ticket, and now I sit waiting to board a plane for Minneapolis, and then get a connection to Indianapolis. This is a better flight even than the first, that was Portland-Cincinnati-Detroit-Indy, but I'm just going to be happy to be on my way.

I wish I had time to take the train. Orientation better be awesome.