It’s a little too early. The house is a little too neat, a hair too empty. Except for a few bags lined up neatly by the door. It’s vacation time, and despite the pang of sadness that comes with leaving home, I know I’ll appreciate it all the more when I get home.
As usual, I’ve slept too little before the early morning run to the airport. Outside it’s alternating between rain and a flat out downpour. Hopefully the weather in Oregon will be better.
The Philly departure is uneventful, and a few catnaps later, I’m in Vegas, where the temperature is aiming for 105. Inside the airport, it’s slot machines and bad food with long lines, so I forage for snacks the gift shop while grazing like a camel over the water fountain in light of the liquid carry on ban.
Portland is a bit toasty, pushing 90, but not so bad without the east coast humidity. An easy ride on the MAX light rail line drops me two blocks from the hotel, my temporary home for the next week.
