On the Road: Portland, Oregon
Rambling about sights, safety, flights, electric vehicles, and going home again
Hello, my dear friend.
After a traveling break the past couple months, I was on the road again last week to Portland, Oregon — my fourth trip to the West Coast city known for its quirky culture and being part of the Pacific Northwest punk movement.
To me, though, Portland means conferences, mountains, waterfalls, and Powell’s City of Books, the largest independent bookstore in the world. If I only have one stop in Portland, it’s always Powell’s, and my purchases this visit took nearly all the space in my suitcase.
Rambling About Traveling
All Aboard!
Why do rear-seat passengers board last? I understand and accept that paying for first-class or comfort-plus gives you wider seats and better food and service, but doesn’t being bumped and jabbed by those waddling to the rear seats take away from your luxury experience? Demand to be seated last and save yourself some bruises. We’re all arriving at the same time anyway.
Giving Delta Another Chance
Preferring American or Alaska, I flew Delta Airlines from Indianapolis to Atlanta (with a five-hour layover), and then to Portland. Yes, zigzagging across the country like that doesn’t make sense to me either, but I’m the crazy travel agent who booked the flights, so I can’t complain, right?
Years ago, Delta was responsible for a harried, horrible experience by our older son’s then-girlfriend when she flew to visit him in Florida, and I’ve avoided using them since. This time, though, all my flights were relatively pleasant and uncomplicated, except for the flight from Seattle to Minneapolis on my return trip that left a half hour late and required a mad dash to my next gate, which only had two people left to board, besides me, of course. That itinerary went from Portland to Seattle to Minneapolis to Indianapolis. I need a new travel agent.
The seats were reasonably comfortable and not as compact as I’ve experienced in the cheap class. Even from the middle, I was able to move my legs enough to keep my store-bought knees from getting stiff. Having a free carry-on was a huge plus, since my underseater bag wouldn’t fit in its normal spot (the space on Delta isn’t as wide as other airlines, even cheap ones like Frontier and Spirit). The best part was free WiFi and entertainment. I watched 80 For Brady, with Jane Fonda, Lily Tomlin, Sally Field, and Rita Moreno, who are so much fun to watch, even if the movie is just so-so.
Atlanta — Layover in Hell
How do I hate thee, let me count the ways…
I loooaathe flying through Atlanta, and too many of my flights stop in the pit of hell that is the busiest airport in the world. I’m not sure if I’ve ever had a layover at Hartsfield Jackson Atlanta International Airport that didn’t start with arrival in one terminal and end with departure from the terminal farthest away. And my layovers are often five to eight hours long.
Airport Etiquette
I engage with strangers, but try to stay attuned to their body language, interaction, and facial expression to determine if they’re working on something, distracted, frustrated, or ready to exit the conversation.
I missed my boarding slot, final bathroom stop, and last chance to grab refreshments because a man sat down and interrupted a difficult task I was working on to introduce himself, ask my name, and then talk nonstop for more than an hour about his family, career, interests, and the meaning of names, all while drowning out flight-related announcements from the gate attendants. My brain was exhausted by the time I got on the airplane — thank goodness he wasn’t sitting next to me.
Should I wear my AirPods and pretend not to hear people when I’m busy working on something?
I unintentionally engaged another talker in Atlanta (when I offered her a peppermint because I overheard that her stomach was upset) and only escaped (and in just enough time) to get my last bathroom break before boarding. As I passed first class, she was sitting next to a miserable-looking young man, and was rambling on and on. I looked sympathetically at him and said “good luck” under my breath, but I’m pretty sure he didn’t notice.
Signs to end an uninvited conversation:
Short, generic responses: “Huh,” “Really?” “Wow,” etc.
Looking at their phone or back to the project they are working on.
Closed-off stance: crossing arms, turning their body away, looking away.
Staring blankly at the speaker or into space.
If you encounter any of these reactions, please do your fellow traveler a favor and open a book, so they can get back to what they were doing before you sat down.
Going Green
If no hotel shuttle is available, I use Uber Green, which usually costs the same as basic transport and reduces carbon emissions. Working in energy and emerging technologies, I frequently engage the driver to talk about their electric vehicle and charging experiences, the cost of operation, and overall satisfaction. (If I get little response, I back off, sit back, and finish the ride in silence. See, engagement awareness above.)
This trip I rode in a Chevy Bolt, Ford Mustang Mach-E, Volvo-produced Polestar 2, and an older Toyota Prius. The most luxurious ride was the Mach-E, although I adamantly protest use of the name “Mustang,” because it’s not a muscle car.
The Bolt owner lives in an older apartment and doesn’t have access to a home charger. His only option is public charging that is easily accessible in the heart of the city, but a struggle outside. Too many of the chargers he finds on the outskirts are inoperable, which unfortunately, is a common complaint.
Despite that, he said the savings are worth the hassle, paying a $25 monthly subscription that gives him mostly unlimited charging. He added that if he worked full time with his SUV, he would pay $14,000 a year in fuel.
If you’ve had little or no exposure to an electric vehicle, this is a good way to ride in one and see what all the hype is about. Ask your driver questions; most will readily share opinions.
Clean, Close & Comfy
I’ve been to Portland for three conferences at the Oregon Conference Center and twice I’ve stayed at the Hyatt Regency Portland next door — in fact, I’ve actually stayed in the same room both times. I prefer to stay close to the conference center, and I know with this hotel in particular, I can always count on comfy, clean accommodations and topnotch service.
After my stay last year, I found out where the hotel got its bedding, and then ordered four fluffy pillows and bamboo sheets for that luxurious experience at home. Every night, upon slipping under the covers and resting my head on the pillows, without fail, I utter, “I love my bed.” It’s one of my favorite moments of the day.
What Time Is It?
I seem to travel to the West Coast frequently and the three-hour time difference from Eastern to Pacific can be debilitating for this aging body. I’m an early riser, which means I may be waking up at 2 a.m. Pacific, because my body thinks it’s 5 a.m. Eastern, or hitting the sheets at 7 p.m., because my body thinks it’s bedtime. This trip, I forced myself to stay up late and go back to sleep when my biological clock went off, finally starting my day at the “normal” clock time. So far, it’s been a good strategy — I’ll test my theory out again next month when we head to San Francisco and Sacramento.
Is Portland Safe?
Traveling to Portland is unlike any other city I visit, whether for work or pleasure. I don’t tend to venture out much on my own or go sightseeing, besides Powell’s, of course. Of all the places I’ve gone with others and by myself, I feel the least safe in Portland, which sounds ridiculous from a frequent New York City traveler. (Although, I’ve never felt unsafe in NYC.)
On my second trip, I planned one of my crazy adventures and flew into Portland and out of Seattle, making the transition from city to city by an Amtrak train leaving from Union Station near the western shores of Willamette River in Old Town Chinatown. As I walked toward the station, my situational awareness was on high alert and I realized how vulnerable I was pulling a suitcase, when a man began following me. While my reaction may seem like paranoia, I never take my safety for granted, which is how I stay safe and am not afraid to travel by myself.
I reside in a city that regionally has an abnormally high population of people experiencing homelessness, so I’m no stranger to tents and grocery carts and people who shout at cars and scream at each other. But that same population in Portland is plentiful and unsettling, especially around the station.
On that particular night, my brain calmly returned to my training and set a plan if he got too close to me. However, I’d never had such an overwhelming feeling of being unsafe or impending danger.
While that incident isn’t what keeps me from exploring Portland, I was left with little desire to be curious about the city. Plus, I usually don’t rent a car which limits venturing outside the city to see all the natural phenomenon that I do appreciate, like the mountains and Multnomah Falls.
So, please do me a favor for my next visit: Share what you like about Portland, Oregon. Give me must-see ideas and change my perception. I’m counting on you.
Public Transportation
When my $10 Uber trip turned into a $30 return, I suddenly realized that I need to learn to navigate transit. I know, I know… “Linda! How do you not know how to catch a train or bus?”
It’s simple… my opportunities to ride mass transit usually arise when my husband is with me, and I just don’t pay attention, because I don’t have to. When traveling alone, I just avoid transit.
But, faced with a $30 trip back to my hotel, I realized I can’t put it off any longer. I’m sure I could figure it out on my own, but, again, I don’t have to. My husband is a willing teacher.
The good news is, though, that I explored my options for about 10 minutes and the fare dropped back to $10, so I caught an Uber.
Traveling Home
I do love to travel, but as the days go by and departure nears, I’m increasingly eager to be done with work and headed home. That was especially true this trip.
With losing our elderly dogs two days before I left, I wasn’t as hyped about traveling as I normally am. I wanted to be surrounded by my two- and four-legged loved ones, my stuff, and the walls where I’m most comfortable and safe to be me.
As cliche as it is, Dorothy was right: There’s no place like home.
♥️♥️♥️