I got into Omaha late. Not "too" late, mind you, but late enough that we didn't have time to leave the airport for a picnic. We had planned on going across the street to a park, but I got in around 1:30, and by the time I actually got off the plane, etc, we were running short on time. 1st, we ran down and checked in for our next flight. Next, we went to the bathroom. I hadn't eaten anything or used a restroom all day. Lastly, we had our "picnic" in the food court area outside of security.
It was delicious. It was also a lot of fun. And...I was kind of glad we didn't leave the airport. As we were deplaning, I briefly experience the hot, humid air of Omaha, Nebraska and quickly thanked my lucky stars that I don't live there, anymore. It was like a sauna out there. It wasn't particularly hot, but it was sweaty nonetheless. Again, I was reminded of a colleague I had while I worked at Offwire. He actually lives in Portland, and kind of (really) talked up moving out here. He once said to me, "You are an American. You can live anywhere you want! Any kind of climate is yours to choose from. In my country [he's from Kuwait], you have your citizenship, and whatever city you were born in, that's where you live. But in America...you have a choice. I never did figure out why people, who have this choice, would choose to live in the midwest." I can kind of see his point.
When I flew back twice a month to see Scooter this winter, I had to shovel the driveway every time. And now, unexpectedly, it's a sweat box outside. Portland might be having one of the coldest springs on record, but when it's sunny, it's BEAUTIFUL, and when it's "cold," it's still in the 50s. This is my kind of weather.
Anyway, after a lovely lunch with my mom (which was completely pest-free), Scooter and I packed up her backpack, and headed through security. We had enough time to grab a bottle of water on the other side of security before boarding the flight to Vegas. Scooter was completely unimpressed with the "gambling machines." In fact, they seemed to offend her in some fashion. But with such a long layover, we didn't have much to do besides walk on the people-movers and count people playing the slots. We also rode the tram from C terminal to the main terminal over and over again. The 7:40 departure turned into an 8:10 departure. Boo! Southwest had a 25% on-time percentage on this trip, which is in keeping with our experiences with them lately. Lame. We arrived in Portland only 15 minutes late. Unfortunately, some horrific traffic kept Ben and Bubba from picking us up until 11:15 or so. We got home very late, but were still able to appreciate the streamers, banner, and balloons that the boys spent all afternoon working on.
In Scooter's words, "It's good to be home. I call this place 'home' because it's where I'm supposed to be." I couldn't agree more.
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