Salvage Heart

I've been a reluctant fan of Delta Airlines in recent years, mostly because they can get me from Portland to Cincinnati faster and cheaper than anyone else (and my parents get Delta miles, which they occasionally use to fly [one of] their deadbeat son and [mostly] lovely grandchildren in on).

And I have something nice to say about my recent PDX-CVG-PDX trip last week.

But first, something not so nice about somewhere usually so nice: Portland International Airport. This lovely airport, with so many shops at such reasonable prices, is the kind of airport you want to get stuck at (versus Phoenix). But recent upgrades now force taxis to the outer drop-off, meaning you then have to hike to a cross walk from the taxi stand, then cross four lanes of traffic to get to the curbside check-in. Which is something that you notice when left on the sidewalk with three children and seven bags (including two carseats).

Then, the curbside check-in, where you are now charged $2 per bag, and where my wife was reminded (in LA recently ) that this charge does not include gratuity. And reminded again.

So, we figured we'd beat the charge and go inside to the counter, where the self-check kiosk didn't work, and the nice woman at the counter informed us that the plastic bags you put your car seats in (so that you don't drag them on the plan or gangway), are $3 apiece, and can't be re-used.

Nickel and dime. And that's before you get on the plane, where they can shave 20 minutes off the four hour flight with a good tailwind, but no longer serve any free food above a pack of crackers or peanuts. None. Not event that blue ENJOY package with the Oreos and what-not. And don't even get me started on having to sit around in the damn dark so that every fifth person can watch reruns of Mad About You and some movie that you either wouldn't want to see or would rather your children didn't see.

BUT, on the flight from Cincy to Portland (more like five hours, thanks to a headwind), all seats had built in players, with choices of movies, HBO programming, free television stations, and actual album selections as well as those improving-but-still-lame in-flight music channels.

And let me tell you, I was shocked SHOCKED to find Sam Cooke's Live at the Harlem Square Club among my choices. I was excited CONFUSED to click on Meet the Smithereens only to find a bunch of Beatles songs, and then I was RELIEVED of having to pick what to listen to by a toddler who kept yanking the ear phone plug out of the ear phone hole.

I can only imagine how it might have sounded.

Labels: family, music, Portland, Sam Cooke, Smithereens, travel