On the road again: Portland, day 5

I’m home, and I’m very glad to be here. Travel today separated into two very distinct stages.

The first was about as good as modern air travel could be. After taking a wrong turn on the way out of town, I course-corrected and made it to the airport without incident. Traffic was better than normal for Portland at 6:00 a.m. The rental car agent was pleasant and efficient, as was the check-in agent.

I grabbed water and Diet Coke, then settled in to work. PDX provides free bandwidth, and the signal was good where I was setting. My first-class upgrade came through. My seatmate was pleasant and worked in tech. I worked almost the whole time, and all was well.

I had a two-hour layover at DFW, but my departure gate was only nine gates from the Admiral’s Club. I walked there, found a corner with great views and a power outlet, and worked the entire time.

Then the fun began.

I had managed neither exit row nor first-class upgrade for the flight to RDU. The plane was oversold--of course; when isn’t it, these days? Platinum status let me board early, where I had the privilege of watching businessman after businessman put his one carry-on piece in the overhead compartment instead of under the seat in front of him. I appreciate the selfish desire to do this, but on a completely fully flight it is a sure path to trouble, because some people have bags they must put overhead. As I expected, we were late in departing thanks to luggage issues we could have avoided had these jerks followed the rules of the community of fellow passengers.

The window seat next to me--I was lucky enough to get an aisle--was one of the last to fill. Coming down the aisle were two people: a tiny, cute Chinese woman with a killer smile, and a man who looked at lot like a magnified version of me. You know which one ended up sitting next to me. Even with him leaning against the fuselage and me leaning into the aisle, our shoulders touched the entire flight.

The two women in the seats immediately behind me began talking the moment they closed the airplane doors. One’s voice was pleasantly normal, but the other could pierce tank armor at thirty yards. You know which one dominated the conversation. She told our section of the plane so much about her various plastic surgeries--and there were many--that I had to check her out when I headed to the rest room. I have to give her and her surgeon credit: she looked amazing. I know from her endless prattling that she was 55, but I would have guessed her at 37.

I was very happy when we touched down and I was able to get out of that plane.

Dinner was the usual take-out Chinese, and then we headed to see The Forbidden Kingdom. I wanted to love this movie. I'm a huge Jet Li fan, a big Jackie Chan fan, and I love Chinese martial arts flicks. The trailer looked promising. I entered the theater with high hopes.

I left with a mixture of enjoyment and disappointment.

I loved Jet Li as the Monkey King. He rarely gets to have fun in movies, so it was a pleasure to see him laugh and play. Jackie Chan's performance ranged from sad to quite good. The supporting cast did solid to good jobs.

The problem was the lead. He was uninspiring at best and annoying and boring at worst. Every scene with him was weaker for his presence.

Overall, I can recommend this one only for some of the fight scenes (and not the opening one, alas, which was wirework at its worst).