To Hell with School!

No, I'm not dropping out, no worries. I got up early this morning, after accidently setting my alarm for the wrong time, but unusual for me lately, I got right up. I worked out (yeah, I still do that occasionally), listened to some music and got dressed up. Don't know why I felt like putting on fancyish clothes - and by 'fancyish' I really mean nice jeans, a good fitting girly t-shirt and a scarf. The scarf is a nice addition, I've found. I've actually been nodded at by people and one boy nearly ran into a pole! (I'm serious. If he had actually hit the pole I might have had to get his autograph. That crap doesn't happen to Sara very often.)

So I had plenty of time to make my bus, but I didn't. I also didn't fancy trudging all the way into downtown just to be late to a class that I've already finished reading the lessons for. So I decided to get breakfast. There's this nice cafe a short walk from my house. It's a cafe that leans more on food than coffee and it also serves booze, although I wasn't in the mood for that. The only problem with the place is that it's very cluttered and it's hard to get anything resembling privacy. Today it was especially crowded and I had to sit in a table in the middle of the room, right in front of the door, which made me a little self conscious. I forgot about it though, as the good atmosphere far outweighed the negative aspects. Johnny Cash was on the speakers (well, not literally. That'd be a little creepy, to have a dancing Johnny Cash on the speakers, seeing as he's dead and all), a guy with a mohawk sat in front of me, and behind him on the outside table (why anyone was sitting outside on such a dreary, cold morning is beyond me) was a boy with brilliant blue eyes that kept stealing my attention throughout my meal.

I walked home, but it was too early to stay there. I grabbed my laptop and my transit pass and decided to finally go to the airport like I'd been planning on for some time. Y'see, the Portland airport is one of the few airports to have fared well after the 9/11 security crackdown. It used to be that you could go to the airport and watch the planes take off anytime you pleased, but now you have to be a ticketed passenger to make it passed the security into the gate area. A lot of other airports had their shops and things on the other side of this obstacle and thus don't get too many shoppers anymore. At Portland, you can still shop and eat and drink and watch planes take off, due to the design. They also have this law that they can't jack up their prices above the average city cost of things. To me, that means the Portland airport is like a giant 24-hour coffee shop with big cushy chairs, free wifi and sockets to plug your laptop into. Oh and there's even a pub!

So here I am, watching planes roll around the runways and soaking in the atmosphere of the place. I love airports, at least I used to, before I came to associate them with panicked dashes with heavy luggage and a deep pit of anxiety in my stomach about the next unpleasant destination. Yes, most of my flying since adulthood (if you can call it that) has been for the army, which has tainted the whole experience for me.

It's nice to be here without that nervousness and without a heavy bag and without the prospect of a really long wait in line. I'm not thinking about making connections or how to get to my hostel when I get off the plane or whether my luggage is going to make it. No, the old feelings about airports are back: the excited tingle about heading off to new destinations. I've always had the travel bug, but sometimes it comes out of dormancy with a fury. Today would be one of those times. I mean jeez, I just came back from my last adventure three months ago! Can I really wait until summer to get out of here again?

Update: It occurs to me that I've never been to Spain, a place I've wanted to see since high school. Hmmmmmm....