Amy and I just returned from our fifth-year anniversary trip to Seattle, the Oregon Coast, and Oregon wine country.
But you’re unemployed.
I know. Thank you.
How could you go on a trip?
Easy. We boarded a plane, and it took us to our destination.
But, but…
But nothing. We planned the trip a long time ago, and we weren’t going to cancel.
We went away for a week, and when people asked me if Jake was coming, too, I said,
“Of course he’s coming. Why wouldn’t we take him on our fifth anniversary trip? The thought of sleeping in nauseates me. I would cry if I missed changing his diarrhea diapers. Receiving 100 percent of my wife’s attention would just suck. Not schlepping Jake from vineyard to vineyard and tasting room to tasting room while not entertaining him between fast sips of Oregon pinot noir, would be a FUCKING CATASTROPHE!”
No, Jake did not come with us.
We flew first class, which was something like 712,000 miles each, but we had the miles. No Jake + traveling first class to the Pacific Northwest = the recipe for the best vacation ever.
I flew first class once by mistake when I was 14, and I was upgraded to business class on a flight home from Spain because I was food poisoned (When you’re in Madrid, always place your order by saying “buen cocinar” or well done. Otherwise, they will serve you raw chicken with its vagina still attached.) That was pre-9/11 when you could buy a coach seat and get upgraded by simply asking.
I haven’t had the privilege of flying first class as an adult, so I decided to act like a condescending asshole. When they announced that they were now boarding first class, I looked at all 
the sad bastards still sitting and said,
“Yeah, not second class.”
Once seated, I sipped a Bloody Mary and shook my head at the lowly coach passengers doing the walk of shame to their seats, waving my drink at them.
After my Bloody Mary, I ordered a glass of wine. It was 8:30 in the morning. We took off, and they served us an underwhelming breakfast on a small tray covered with a sheet of foil. Right about then, I noticed that my seat wasn’t very large. There were free drinks, but no cool amenities like our own T.V. screens that slickly slid out of the top of our arm rests, or anything mutli-media for that matter. Hmm, I thought. Small meal and average sized seat. Yep, we were flying coach from 12 years ago. At least we used miles. Only a shithead would pay for a first class ticket.
Our trip was fantastic, and Seattle and Oregon are beautiful, progressive societies with the freshest food and the best wine I’ve ever tasted. Being there made me forget that places like Newark and Indiana exist.
But a weird feeling came over me.
I missed Jake. We’ve gone away without him a few times, and I was happy to see him when we returned, but I’d never been away from him for seven days. By the fifth day, I didn’t just miss him, I wanted him to be with us. By the seventh, it felt like I had been away for a month. Not on vacation for a month, but away from my son for a month. Don’t get me wrong, I had a memorable vacation, and Jake, who stayed with Grandma and Pappa, was happier than a tapeworm eating intestines, but I missed a week of Jake’s life, and that is a long time during the insanely rapid development of a two-year-old.
My father-in-law brought Jake for the ride when he picked us up at the airport. He looked older, I shit you not. He even sounded older when he said,
“Hi Mommy Amy. Hi Daddy Davit.”
We’ve only traveled with Jake to see family. I used to think it was stupid to take a small child on a destination vacation. What a waste, right? How could a two-year old appreciate Maine, Maui or Paris? I’m over it, and we already decided one day soon we’re taking Jake to Portland.
And if we have enough miles left, we’ll fly first class again, and Jake will drink his first Bloody Mary.
You could inject morphine in me with a turkey baster and I still wouldn’t fly…scares me shitless! The last time I flew was from your city of Chicago back to Pittsburgh. I remember being on the plane and as soon as they shut the door and the plane started taxiing I wanted to jump up out of my seat and tell them to let me off on the tarmac. Just leave me with the baggage handlers…I’d start a new life…and be on terra firma. This was after drinking before I got on the plane, and subsequently drinking more while in the air. By the time I got back to Pittsburgh my head was flying even though I was now on the ground. Kudos to you, first class or not, to fly to somewhere nice and celebrate your 5th Anniversary! Congratulations!
Portland, baby, woop woop! Oregon and Seattle are beautiful indeed. I’ve only lived here pretty much out of necessity, i.e. I needed my parents to wipe my butt because I was 1, and Portland was the nearest big city when I graduated high school. I know the husband and I will move eventually, but I also know a little slice of this heart will always be here. Sappy sappy sappy.
Flying first class is a little better, but not much. And don’t pay for it outright. It’s a goddamn rip-off.
I’m telling you, I’d move to any of the areas we visited. The best people and food and drink. Tell me more about Portland. We were only in the airport, but it looked very cool.
Portland’s got a lot of culture, and by that I mean booze. We are very proud of our mircobrews, and bookstores. One of the only downsides of experiencing downtown, though? Hobos. We don’t kick them out or have any laws against them badgering you or just SPREADING THEIR LEGS AND PEEING on the sidewalk. Even the chicks are disgusting. I’m sure there are worse places out there, but it’s a little unsightly.
We have McMenamins littered all over the area, which are usually old schools or masonic temples (our favorite is an old, creepy masonic temple with old witch paintings on the walls. But they’re family friendly, I promise) and are turned into restaurants and/or second run theatres where you can buy a crap load of tots and drink their microbrews while you watch. A lot of Portland is focused on beer, and I gotta say I appreciated this city a lot more after I was of drinking age. I also come from a town of like 18,000 where the only thing to do was smoke pot and get pregnant, and since I was eager to do neither of those things, Portland is the best.
However, if you come back over here and decide to go to a Powells (the bookstore we are so very proud of) be aware everyone that works there is a complete dick. I think it’s a job requirement. I mean, they must go through some sort of extensive training to work there so people hate them on site.
Aside from that, Portland is very progressive with the whole “green” thing, even making ME make wiser choices for the environment without even trying.
Oh, and if you ever go to the Oregon Zoo in Portland, don’t be cheap like me and just buy the train ride. I can’t believe I had to wait for the company picnic to pay for me to go on it. Your son would love it (it’s like $4).
David, I know just what you mean. When Marc was Jake’s age my sister watched him for 4 days and I missed him SO MUCH. When I got home he ran into my arms and I cried. Didn’t even care when my sister confessed that in my absence Marc had eaten a raw potato, a pencil eraser, and the on/off button on the TV clicker. Thanks for a great read.
So that’s why Marc turned out the way he did:) He he he!!!
So no lobster and fillet mignon washed down with champagne?
No. I’m not sure I’d trust airplane lobster.
Yeah, I don’t know what’s come over me. Oh well, he’ll be our travel companion for now on.
Wow, thanks for all the information. I’ll be sure to tap you for more when we’re ready for that trip. Of course there’s the matter of getting a new job.
Funny that you mention Powells. We were killing time at PDX airport and stopped in one. I didn’t interact with the staff, so couldn’t tell if they were dicks or not, but I’ll take your word for it.
Again, I’m really impressed with the area, and the views of Mt. Hood and the other ones are just incredible.
What up?
Thanks. It went through.