It turns out I do have an amusing story from my trip: After landing in Portland last Monday, I turned on my cell phone to discover a series of increasingly urgent messages from the TV Goddess, who had agreed to pick me up at the airport. The final one indicated she was leaving me to fend for myself.
As it turned out, she apparently thought my arrival from Chicago was via fighter jet, as she showed up at PDX a mere 90 minutes after my plane (a mere passenger jet) left O'Hare.
In light of the day's news about a plot to blow up planes, however, it seems that fighter jet may be the safest way to fly. Maybe the TV Goddess knows what she's doing.
No comments:
Post a Comment