Flying to Portland

You know what's good about having a drink at 40,000 feet? It's economical, that's what. Every drink in the air is worth at least two on the ground. If I'd only remembered to donate blood before leaving in Austin, I could've gotten rip-roaring, cockpit-storming drunk before being stomped to death in mid-air by a Krav Maga devotee.

As it was, I limited myself to just one beer and landed safely in Portland just after sundown. Noah picked me up and ferried me back to his house. Trish went and got some stubbie bottles of Session Lager and Margherita pizza pie from Bella Faccia on NE Alberta. With the time change and my lack of sleep the night before, I started nodding off around 11pm.

Today is a foggy morning in Portland, but it's not too cold or rainy. In fact, the fog is supposed to clear out and it's supposed to hit 70 degrees later this afternoon. Noah and Trish are at work, so after checking my e-mail and showering, I'll probably take a contemplative stroll about the neighborhood. Maybe I'll go scratch my chin for a few hours at a coffee shop as though I'm some sort of lost European literary figure.