Gone are the hey-days of pleasant and classy air travel. No more beautiful TWA attendants actually attending to you, no more in flight meals, and certainly no blankets. Well, I can’t speak for those in business or first class getting their complimentary cocktails and two to a row seating, but if there’s no blankets on the plane, I think they are even lacking. Flying is essentially becoming airborne bus travel. Cram your ass in the seat, get stink eyed by flight attendants (hey, I need at least 3-4 mini vodka bottles to make it cross country!), and deal with the smell of the family surrounding you eating… uhhhh…. are they eating tamales? A trip back to Jersey recently had me scrambling from train stations to taxis, to planes, to other planes, and back into cars, more trains, taxis, and public transit. 26 hours of travel time there and back between Portland and Hillsborough, New Jersey… nutso. Anyway, it was worth it. I had a great time with my family. I relaxed, and I got in some sketching during my travels. What else are you going to do?
The red headed flight attendant on this particular AirTran flight was less than pleasant let me tell you, but I got lucky and had no one sitting next to me on a fairly full flight which you have to love. A few mini bottles of scotch later, and I was oblivious to her stink eye. Cowboy hats don’t seem like comfortable plane attire.
The tree that Katie and I planted during our wedding ceremony is doing well, and my dad still hates being drawn. “I don’t even fucking look in the mirror in the morning! What makes you think I want to look at a drawing of myself? I really don’t like that shit man.” Yep. Tough. Quit sitting so still and maybe you wouldn’t get drawn. My yard has a lot of Robins.
Unlike my dad, my mom does like being painted, but she doesn’t sit still for very long, I’m not saying my dad isn’t an animated fellow, but if you catch him at the right time, he’s just zoned out, my mother is always excited about something. Little niece Lizzy pictured here is about 5 years younger than this sketch lets on. Useful I suppose if she ever goes missing for five years and we have to do an age projected milk carton missing persons image.
My brother and I got wastey the the last night I was in Jersey, but he can’t hang and he assed out mid conversation. One kamikaze too many I suppose.
Patiently waiting for my train on the last leg of my journey home to Portland. The guy in the hat was eying me. I think he spotted me giving him the sketcher’s glance. That quick furtive looks up and down, pretending like you’re drawing something nearby the person you’re actually sketching in a futile attempt to not get noticed.
Even Sketchier... 