The lack of an operative sewer system put me in a bit of a pickle, so I decided to go to a place where people love all things pickled: Portland.
Being that I was only staying for one night, thus had no luggage to check, I didn’t bother with arriving too early. In fact, I clearly didn’t really bother with arriving in general. I arrived at the airport thinking I had about one hour before boarding.
I spent that hour leisurely walking toward my gate, tooling around the various airport shops, and observing the other passengers. I decided to sit down and charge my phone for a bit and then figured it might be time to walk toward my gate when I heard my name overheard, “Final boarding call….”
Oops. Turns out there is a reason I am not an accountant. I totally transposed the numbers and was leaving at 3:05, not 3:50.
Luckily, although I’m not a runner (and there are plenty of reasons for that), I was able to quickly make it to my gate, take my seat, send Live Longer a text to let her know I was on my way and breath a sigh of relief that I did not get myself into a bit of a flight pickle.
Between my sewer pickle and time pickle, I am really looking forward to getting pickled in Portland.
