I returned from an atypical and yet highly enjoyable trip to the Portland/Salem/Grant’s Pass/Vancouver area Monday. And then I promptly fell asleep. Ok, so that would have been the ideal situation, but as I technically drove from Portland back to Spokane and straight to work, I was actually forced to remain semi-conscious for the majority of my five hour shift. Go figure. The weekend really was wonderful, although I don’t think I’ve ever driven so much in a three day period, nor have I ever been so lost. In my own expert opinion of myself, I really do have an advanced sense of direction, but I discovered this past weekend that when dealing with sub-par directions and imprecise direction givers there remains little a girl can do to salvage the inevitable chaos of navigating the myriad of poorly planned roadways surrounding the greater Portland area. And besides, being lost is sometimes fun. Until it’s irritating, and then it’s nap time.
At one point on Friday my navigator, who is himself exceptionally bright, but is as familiar with Portland as a surfer is with snow, suggested, “I think we should just turn right at the next major road.” Hmm…good idea. So after we determine the definition of “major” in reference to Portland roads, we can turn right with confidence and rather than we are so lost and although this road is quite beautiful it’s so overgrown with foliage that we all know it doesn’t play host to a regular amount of vehicle traffic, and if we break down we might be lost for days, we can instead proudly be still so lost it could become frustrating at any point, but now we are on a main road so we can be lost while passing other vehicles and at least six McDonald’s, which naturally makes us feel better about our currently pathetic navigational situation.
I did eventually, and with much difficulty, find every locale of which I was in search throughout the weekend, but that is unquestionably the last time I travel the Pacific Northwest without a map of the Pacific Northwest somewhere on my person. Navigators with minds of their own simply cannot be trusted. Nor can drivers with uncontrollable compulsions to exit too early, or too late, or simply not at all.
A (somewhat) brief compilation of highlights from the weekend:
1. Attending a pre-wedding partay for two self-proclaimed hippies, where I drank three cans of rootbeer in a half an hour. Please note that this decision would normally have left me feeling sick to my stomach and full for days, but this was no ordinary rootbeer. No sir, this was /organic/ rootbeer. I know, who knew such a thing even existed? I’m pleased to report that in conjunction with possessing a suprisingly crisp, refreshing taste, organic rootbeer is not dark brown in color, but clear. Clear, I say! And so good that I would have drank more than three cans if I thought people wouldn’t have started staring curiously at that crazy girl who keeps drinking rootbeer like she’s really dehydrated and has never tasted rootbeer in her life.
2. Realizing that sometimes being right can indeed feel so wrong. Yes, the setting for the aforementioned party was exquisite, and also, as I attempted to point out earlier in the evening, mosquito infested. My companions tried to reassure me that the inhabitants of the grounds planted the surrounding greenery for the specific purpose of expelling bugs of all irritating varieties, and as such I should naturally feel safer knowing that, although I could see bugs everywhere, they weren’t going to be able to touch me because the plants were especially chosen for their ability to ward off the evil insects, almost magically. Hippies. (Sigh). So color me (un)surprised when, mere seconds after the sun tucked itself into bed behind the nearest mountain range for the evening, I began to feel every inch of exposed skin playing host to an uninvited dinner party comprised of extremely persistent, and apparently starving mosquitos. I counted, and from the ten minutes time it took us all to realize that we were the main menu item for this feast and that the bug spray just wasn’t working and that remaining at this party just simply wasn’t worth acquiring West Nile Virus, I already had 19 bites strategically placed around my ankles, on my right forearm, atop both of my shoulders, on my left shin and a particularly large cluster occupying the majority of skin directly behind my kneecap. Did I mention how much I enjoy itching?
3. Going to a wedding in Grant’s Pass, and sweating the entire time because people don’t know how to plan a good party, and shouldn’t they know that the combination of a 4pm wedding in Southern Oregon, almost California, and a guest list that includes a random aggregrate of Willamette students both old and new, is both too hot and too awkward to be fun in the slightest of senses? Apparently they didn’t get that memo.
4. Driving from Spokane to Portland and from Portland back to Spokane in 4.5 and 5 hours, respectively, while not acquiring a third speeding ticket, or even really seeing more than 3 cops on the road the entire trip. While this occurrence was particularly lovely for me and my affinity for less than legal driving, I am not so naive to think it will happen twice. Overall a success of a weekend. Except for the whole I’m lost, you’re lost, ok now we’re all lost, mosquito bitten, itchy, sweating, awkward part.