Here we are at Ted Stevens Anchorage International Airport, about to depart for another adventure. This time we will be flying to southern Idaho to get my car out of storage then take it on a road trip through Glacier National Park, then up to Calgary, Alberta Canada, also stopping in Edmonton, before finally heading west across Canada and finally back home to Anchorage, Alaska just in time to fly back to work in Prudhoe Bay, Alaska.
Being here in the airport terminal, waiting for our flight seems like a good time to include some airtravel observations. First off, and I hate to break this to my Alaskan friends, but Anchorage has been voted as America's worst dressed city, and for good reason. I know that you want to be comfortable on the airplane and all, but when you go into public (and few places are more public than an airport) at least show enough pride in yourself to not wear sweat pants, pajamas, slippers, or t-shirts that are too short to cover your gigantic beer gut; and cut your damn mullet! Ursa spotted one that she referred to as, "the artistic type," which he was, provided that "artistic" is a euphamism for "hobo". I'm not asking anyone to dress in slacks and a tie to go to the airport, and I am by no means a fashion authority myself, I'm just asking people to show a little personal pride.
Also, while I'm waiting for my flight, I'm reminded of a quote by one of my favorite authors, Douglas Adams, who said, "It is no coincidence that in no known language does the phrase, 'As pretty as an airport' appear." No matter how hard they try to make an airport terminal pleasing to the eye, there will always be something deeply soul-crushing about it.
But listen to me, this whole post has degenerated into one long snivelfest. There is a part of me that is the cranky traveller, sure, yet the greater part of me is twitchy with excitement, and just impatiently wants to get this show on the road.
"Now boarding flight 98 to Seattle," just announced over the intercom, and our journey will begin; talk to you all when we get to Boise
But listen to me, this whole post has degenerated into one long snivelfest. There is a part of me that is the cranky traveller, sure, yet the greater part of me is twitchy with excitement, and just impatiently wants to get this show on the road.
"Now boarding flight 98 to Seattle," just announced over the intercom, and our journey will begin; talk to you all when we get to Boise
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