Aug. 19th, 2009

mr_cellaneous: (me)
Adventure #1: World's most incompetent server at the Noah's Bagels in Terminal C of the San Jose Airport. This was pretty minor as adventures go, roughly on par with Bilbo Baggins forgetting his pocket handkerchiefs, but it counts. Seriously: really incompetent. There were, like, eight cents in the tip jar. I'm guessing she put them there herself, and I kinda wish I'd taken them. (Side note: WTF is up with the Firefox spell-checker being fine with the word "Bilbo" but underlining "Baggins" in red? Doesn't knowing the one imply knowledge of the other? But, I digress.)

Adventure #2: Waiting on the tarmac in San Jose while they fixed a fuel gauge on the jet. Again, fairly minor, except for the whining 7yo I stoically endured.

Adventure #3: Arriving in Denver 45 minutes late due to Adventure #2, which was exactly long enough for our connecting flight to Billings to leave without us. Being told by a flight attendant that I would be automatically booked on the next flight to Billings, then finding no flight to Billings listed on the departure board at the airport.

Adventure #4: Contacting the airline and learning that there was one more flight out, leaving three hours later.

Adventure #5: Killing three hours at DIA. Ben's always adored riding escalators for fun, but now, now, he has discovered the seductive charms of moving sidewalks. Lots of typically overpriced airport concourse fast food was also consumed, and a couple of chapters of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince read aloud. (Another side note: WTF is up with airport concourses that look like shopping malls? I mean, I get the crappy newsstands with magazines and Grisham novels and overpriced bottled water and candy bars; people on the airplane need empty calories both literal and metaphorical, and it's not like you can bring in your own damn water anymore. And I get the McDonald's with the $8 Big Macs; you're in an airport, you get hungry, what are you gonna do--leave?--so you pay out the butt for garbage food. And I also get the touristy souvenir shops and jewelry shops, for weary travelers returning home and realizing at the last minute they forgot to buy presents for their spouses and offspring; I have made use of such facilities myself on occasion. But, seriously. Who goes to an airport and tries on evening gowns? Who shops for a Harley-Davidson while waiting for a connecting flight to Omaha?)

Adventure #6: After arriving safe and sound at my mom and sister's house in Laurel, Montana, and sleeping late this morning, a family picnic at Pompey's Pillar National Monument. It's a honkin' big rock that William Clark graffitied in 1806 on his way to Oregon with Lewis and Sacajawea and her baby son, whose nickname was "Pompey". You can climb to the top of the rock, a few hundred feet up, and get a magnificent view of the fields all around, the Yellowstone River flowing by, mountains off in the distance, and infinitely-receding waves of spectacular clouds in the sky. You share this experience with a couple of park rangers and about a dozen tourists. I love how unpretentious national monuments are, and yet how fine. Thankya to President Clinton for designating this place as one three days before the end of his term.

I climbed the rock twice, once with my 84-year-old mom, once with Ben. He climbed it three times, two of them all by himself, and he fell asleep in the car on the way home.

Tomorrow: Yellowstone.


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