Summer vacation, Day 1

Our adrenaline was high as we approached our destination aboard a tiny commuter jet. We may have been too engrossed with peering out the window at the passing mountains to notice our perky flight attendant’s brusque instructions to securely store our belongings for landing. She seemed particularly concerned about items in the seat pockets. “She’s strict,” remarked LBC, minutes before the plane began a seemingly endless and sharp corkscrew dive.
We held onto our armrests and managed some nervous smiles. I said aloud, “this must be what it’s like to fly into Baghdad.” Yet, the face of our flight attendant remained beatific. Did the mountains necessitate such a dramatic approach? We landed with a jaunt — business as usual, I guess — and taxied to a tiny terminal. Welcome to Medford, OR, 270 miles south of Portland.

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