southern fried rabbit

i think it is time to retire from adventuring.

portland has seen the worst snow storm in a decade...over a foot of that sometimes pretty white stuff in downtown pdx. this is rare for portland which lies in a valley and usually sees two kinds of weather: light rain or sunshine. after taking a taxi to the airport five hours before my flight took off and trying to converse with the russian driver named antinov, i made my way into pdx and hoped for the best. no delay! after spending days worried about getting home for christmas i was more than ecstatic to see that my flight would work out. i had hope. all will be fine.

wrong. we passengers sat in the airplane while they de-iced the outside (though there was no ice to begin with) for an hour...the exact amount of time that i had for my layover in las vegas. arriving in that fair city i sat helpless as i watched the plane that i was supposed to be on to go to tampa slowly back away from the gate and prepare for take off. crap.

waiting in line at the u.s. airways costumer service counter i griped and complained with fellow passengers about our plight and met a lovely man trying to get to detroit. we chatted about portland and lamented the state of airlines in the united states and i decided: i must move to europe. that way the only reason i would need to fly is if i was coming back to the u.s. other than that, trains all the way baby!

at the ticket counter i received another blow: the earliest they could get me home is 3:45 christmas day. i got my ticket to phoenix, my first-class ticket to tampa, my meal voucher for $10 to ellis island casino, and a room at the local super 8 motel. 

alone. in las vegas. at a super 8. on christmas.

i have not mentioned this yet but i despise this city. i stopped here for approximately five hours on my trip out west and told myself i would never come here again. and now here i was. spending christmas eve night in a city that has a miniature eiffel tower, where the brooklyn bridge is barely fifteen feet of the ground, alone, sitting and drinking whiskey tonics at a bar next to a man feeding his money into a machine. 

waiting to eat dinner alone, the couple i sat next to on the plane spotted me and asked if i wanted to join them. i did. after another whiskey tonic and a philly french dip the size of my skull, i put a quarter in a slot machine, turned around, and walked back to my room. i passed the evening lamenting to a friend that i must have the worst luck of anyone i have ever met. i also spent four hours watching a christmas story over and over, which brought me some christmas spirit (at least at the part when randy is caught crying under the kitchen sink and says, "daddy's gonna kill ralphie").

i am now sitting at the las vegas airport after waking up at 4 am to a cup of weak hotel room coffee and a shuttle driver who mentioned that his mother is going to make him his favorite dish today--southern fried rabbit. i asked him what makes it southern fried. salt and butter, he said.

i just sat back and hoped the new year would come as soon as possible.