Declaration, interrogative or exclamatory. We shall see.
Almost 48 hours ago we began our first vacation as a family of four. Perhaps not so wisely, this meant getting up at 4am after not enough sleep for the parental units and hopping on a 7am flight. Across the country. And because we’re frugal (the nice way to say we’re cheap!), we took advantage that it’s still a couple days prior to Mallory’s 2nd birthday and thus she can be a lap child on the airplane. Which means 4 people sitting in 2 seats. For five and a half hours. Woof.
Things go pretty smoothly getting to and on the airplane. We paid extra to get two bulkhead seats together, so we’d have room for Mal to sit on the floor and generally stretch out. We had fairly good luck with doing this a year ago with just Mal and a trip out West. We had timed it to make it to the flight just in time, which we did, and so we were some of the last people to sit down. We get our bags in overhead storage (the drawback of bulkhead seats is you don’t have any under-seat storage available) and sit down. Very quickly a stewardess comes and announces that we can’t sit there. What? We paid for these tickets, thank you very much. She says FAA rules state you can’t have more people sitting in a row than there are oxygen masks. There are 4 masks available, apparently. And 5 of us in the three-across row for that side.
The stewardess asks a person in the opposite side if they’d move. Ok. But here’s the problem: due to the layout of the seats (and the bathroom taking up space in front of ‘our’ row), the opposite row is not a bulkhead seat. I ask: you’re going to force me to sit in a non-bulkhead row when I paid extra for this? After some back and forth, the stewardess got a person in the opposite bulkhead row – which is one row up – to switch. Better, but we’re still not together. Not ideal, but we’re on the plane and committed, what are you going to do?
Adrienne has Hannah in a window seat. Her new neighbor (the switcher) turns out to be a heavy snorer. Mal and I are in the middle seat one row up, but still a bulkhead seat. My window seat neighbor is an almost-9 year old girl traveling unaccompanied. And her name: Mallory.
Airplane Mallory (as I’ve deemed her now) turns out to be a great neighbor. One of the first things she says to me after we discover the name similarity: would Mallory like some candy? Keep in mind this is at 7am. Airplane Mallory is already sucking on a cherry/chocolate Chupa Chupps sucker, her favorite. Airplane Mallory’s mother also really likes them, apparently. I tell her we haven’t had breakfast yet, but after breakfast Mallory can have some. Airplane Mallory is quite an outgoing and smart girl. And Mallory seems to bond with her pretty quickly. Airplane Mallory turns out to be a seasoned unaccompanied traveler. She’s returning to Portland after visiting her grandparents in Staten Island, but her mother and almost three-year-old sister Autumn are still there. She was born in Las Vegas but her family moved to Portland when she was three. She races BMX bikes, as did her Dad until he hurt himself in competition. Her parents let her choose Autumn’s middle name. It was going to be “eyeball” but then she decided to make it the same as her’s, Lynn. She thinks Mallory likes her more than Autumn. She knows what a palindrome is and was able to list several after I pointed out that “Hannah” is one. Airplane Mallory likes cream cheese on her bagels, which she shared with Mallory. I could go on…
By the end of the flight, the Mallories had shared seats, Mallory Jr. had napped in the arms of Mallory Sr. (this is how Airplane Mallory requested I address them, so to avoid confusion), Airplane Mallory read books to Mallory, they colored together, and Airplane Mallory shared her stuffed bear, Hearts. Needless to say it took a lot of pressure off me, though in some sense I was now watching two children and not one! On the other side of the aisle Hannah dealt fairly well with the flight but Adrienne didn’t get much of a chance to nap either. So we were both glad to be on terra firma. Especially after the same stewardess that originally gave us the bad seating news, gave us trouble after I had Adrienne hold both Mallory and Hannah as I packed up our bags and put them back in overhead seating. She told us we couldn’t have two children in Adrienne’s lap (again due to the FAA oxygen mask rule), but did not offer to help us gather our belongings and replace them to the bins. I was going to have a word with her on my way out, but she was not in the front of the plane. Oh well. (Life lesson: if you want/need someone to do something, don’t tell them what they can’t do; rather, help them do what they can towards that thing that needs to be done.)
(The girls post-airplane ride. Mal was actually just having fun running around and randomly laying down. Kids need to move after being cooped up for 6 hours!)
Adrienne’s Mom picked us up at the airport and we drove to the east side of Portland, where we’d have potluck lunch picnic with family and then check in at one of the local institutions, McMennamin’s Edgefield. McMennamin’s is a locally-based (and only in OR and WA) restaurant/hotel/entertainment business that’s made their name by taking unique real estate and making it something… funky. In the case of the one we stayed, it is a century-old work farm and then nursing home that now has rooms, a couple restaurants, a (movie) theater, outdoor concert space and more. This one is also unique in that most of the rooms do not have a bathroom but rather share common bathroom space. Also, no TVs or phones in the rooms. And barely any internet – Adrienne could get wifi on her iPad but I had no such luck with wifi, so I stuck with the data connection on the phone. It’s an experience, and I think it could be fun in the right circumstances. But those circumstances are probably not the ones we experienced just prior to arriving. Regardless, it was nice to see family both at the picnic and later at the restaurant, and it was nice to be able to crash without having to schlep it out to Goldendale.
I must also note before I forget that we’re very thankful to all family here that have helped make this trip possible, from lending beds and showers and cars to pack’n’plays and car seats. The girls and I appreciate it!
The next morning we grabbed a tasty breakfast at the McMennamin’s restaurant and hopped in the soaking pool before hitting the road.
(Here Mal is blowing bubbles, showing off her skills acquired in swim lessons. Or the bathtub.)
We took the Historic Columbia River Highway eastward and stopped at what Adrienne calls the million-dollar-toilet (otherwise known as Vista Point at Crown Point State Park) to get a view and… use the toilet. Adrienne reports they don’t look like a million bucks. Apparently renovating this particular rest stop was fraught with politics and over spending and every thing else you might imagine. Note the beautiful Columbia River and all the green.
We continued on our way, eventually driving east on I-84 to The Dalles (Airplane Mallory always thought it was pronounced “Dallas” with no “the”), where Adrienne knew the exit by number to get to the Burgerville, another local chain known for using local ingredients. The Marionberry shake was a hit with all.
By now we’re on the east side of the Cascade Range and out of the rain shadow of the mountains. As one who didn’t grow up in the area, the stark contrast between one side of the mountains and the other is always interesting to me. We crossed over to the Washington side and stopped at the Maryhill Winery to pick up some gifts. Note the terrain now:
Soon we cut north on Route 97 and made our way north of Goldendale, where Adrienne’s sister (and thus our lodging for the next few nights) is. I couldn’t help but point out the Goldendale convertible (a pickup truck with the back of the cab chopped off) we trailed:
Ok, so I just made that up. The moniker, that is. The picture is real.
One of the last orders of business was a bath for Mal, where she was happily joined by older cousin Jocelyn.
In many ways it’s always comforting to return home and today was no exception.
