Jumping puddles to Medford

Hunnybear and I have been looking forward to our annual pilgrimage to the Ashland (OR) Shakespeare Festival for months. We booked the nonstop Dash-8 flights SEA-MFR on Horizon (Alaska codeshare) months ago for $128 each. I haven’t yet found a way to fly first class into and out of Medford—or, as one Horizon stewardess put it: “It’s ALL first class.”

After I pick Hunnybear up in Kirkland, we take the diamond lane on the 405 all the way to the airport, cruising past stop-and-go-traffic in my Pontiac convertible with the top down. We didn’t get many convertible days in Seattle this summer, but this was one of them, and the forecast for Ashland is for sunny and highs near 90! This is a welcome prospect with all the bad weather this summer up and down the West Coast—particularly because two of the plays we are going to see are outdoors.

I cruise right by my old favorite parking lot, Ajax, and head to my new favorite, MasterPark. Like last time, a valet hops right up to the car, ports the bags into the van, and is ready to go. This time I notice Alaska has a check-in kiosk right there at the MasterPark lot! We punch in our AS Mileage Plan numbers and out come our boarding passes. There’s really no point in checking luggage on Horizon, because if you just put it on the “A La Cart” outside the plane it magically appears at your destination as you exit the plane. This is one major benefit of flying these little puddlejumpers.

The MasterPark van drops us at Island 1, the closest to AS. Since we’re going to the Alaska Board Room, it’s easiest to enter through Terminal D, so we just take the elevator up one floor. When we get there, a harried woman darts out of the elevator and looks around, puzzled. “Is this—?” She begins, but cannot seem to form the words to her question. “This is the floor for the airport,” I say. She thanks me and looks both ways, trying to decide where to go. “You walk across the skybridge to the terminal,” I explained. There’s nothing a man enjoys more than giving directions. It must be genetic. If I was on my way to Natalie Portman’s house for a little get-together with her and some of the Star Wars cast and crew, and some guy wanted to know how to get to the nearest McDonalds, I’d stop and tell him.

She thanks me again, and says, “You wouldn’t know I’m a business traveler!” Red-faced, she explains that she usually valet-parks and knows how to go from there, but she parked in a different place this time. I seize the opportunity to give further directions. “If you’re in a hurry, find your airline”—I pointed at the list of airline names above the nearest skybridge—“and then cross over. It’s quicker!” This last part was shouted at her back. The opportunity to give further directions lost, we proceeded into the terminal.

We relax in the Alaska Board Room for a few minutes. As usual they have a fine spread of cheese, scones, blueberry bagels, muffins, and crackers. Bowls of mixed nuts are all over the place, so we stock up because they won’t be serving any on the flight. There is an evilly tempting bowl of “Alaska Gold Crunch”—a chocolate-covered toffee candy similar to Almond Roca—at the front desk, and the ladies implore us to chow down on them lest they have to eat them themselves. I say, well, maybe just one or two, three at the most.

For some reason we have been booked in row 9 on this flight in both directions. Row 9 on a Horizon Dash-8 is a 5-seat bench in the back of the cabin. I ask if we can move, but everything else is taken. Oh well. I can snuggle up with Hunnybear and make room for the person in that horrid middle seat. We pour a last glass of delicious Alaska Iced Tea into plastic “to go” cups and head to the gate.

Boarding is a little confusing because there are apparently two Gate C10s. One is the real one, and one is the one we are actually using, which is Gate C12 with a little sign plastered on the counter saying C10. Anyway, I ask the gate agent if this is the right gate for Medford and she says yes, we’ll be boarding right after the current flight to Spokane finishes. They really pack in the departures at Horizon Air—it’s quite amazing. It seems like they have flights every five minutes of the day boarding one after the other. Anyway, boarding proceeds quickly, we put our bags on the A La Cart, and step to the back of the bus.

Well, who should sit down right next to us but—the harried “business traveler” from the elevator! I turn to her and ask, “so what business brings you to Medford?” Actually, she’s not on business this time—that’s why she parked in the cheap lot. She doesn’t take up a lot of room, so the flight is as comfortable as can be expected. There is only one flight attendant, named Mustafa, so when the pilot gives the instructions, instead of saying, “Flight attendants prepare for departure,” he just says “Mustafa prepare for departure.” Mustafa speaks with a very think accent but gives me a whole can of Lemon-Lime Talking Rain, so we are friends.

The plane hits quite a bit of clear-air turbulence on our descent into the Rogue Valley, so we are delighted to arrive. I’ve surprised Hunnybear by booking a convertible from National. They had an amazing rate—cars are always cheap in Medford—and part of my philosophy is never miss an opportunity to go topless on a sunny day. This car is amazing. It is the only rental car I’ve ever seen with leather seats! We get a gold Chrysler Sebring with all the options: leather, power seats, trip computer—even gold rims on the wheels! I think National must have bought this car at a repo auction, but we’re loving it.

Given that there are no Starwood properties in the area, we’ve booked the best suite at the Peerless Hotel, a very nice little inn. Our room has a separate sitting room, a canopy bed and a two-person Jacuzzi. The amenities are very nice (Aveda products) and Hunnybear’s favorite—his and hers bathrobes. They have direct-dial Internet-ready phones and free local calls, so I’m happy too. On the way to the hotel, we stop at the Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory and order the caramel apple with the most stuff on it, another Ashland tradition. In the candy store, I notice that the trademark big stuffed bear is gone. Someone bought it! At $400, I think they make a good profit on that bear, but I missed seeing it. The clerk didn’t know when they would be getting another one.

One glitch in our plans: we have tickets for Othello tomorrow night and Henry IV, Part 2 Sunday, but no tickets for the sold-out performance of The Three Musketeers tonight. Fortunately, in Ashland it’s almost always possible to score tickets “on the bricks”—the common area between the three theaters—before the show. The trouble is, we’re not sure how long it’s going to take us to get tickets and we want to have a nice dinner. So we walk to the Firefly, our favorite restaurant in Ashland, and explain the situation. They give us a reservation for 6:30 and say to call if anything changes. Well, at 5:45 we score two primo seats, so I call Firefly back and say we’re coming over. No problem! We have a delicious meal and most of a bottle of Domiane Drouhin Oregon Pinot Noir and head back to the theater. The only glitch: they don’t take American Express, so I can’t get Starpoints and have to settle for United Miles.

The Three Musketeers is superb, although I still don’t understand why a story about four guys with swords is called The Three Musketeers. Perhaps someone can enlighten me.

Next: why doesn’t everyone move to Southern Oregon?


[This message has been edited by QuietLion (edited 09-04-1999).]