How did I get from the Portland area to Southern Oregon? In the past, I had always driven. It’s a 5 hour drive and usually a fairly pleasant one. This time, I had opted to fly. The cost of the air ticket was very reasonable and there would be no wear and tear on my car. I got to the airport early and passed the time translating “The Ashkenazi Revolution”. As my departure time approached, there were murmurs of weather problems in Southern Oregon. It seems there was freezing fog and there was a chance our plane would not be able to land. We were told, as we waited to board, that we might have to return to Portland (a one-hour flight). Wisps of snow graced the mountains of Oregon but there was no sign of fog – until we reached Rogue Valley, our destination. We descended and the landing gear moved into place. At the last moment, only hundreds of feet from the ground, the landing gear was retracted and we ascended again into the air. The pilot announced that he could not see the runway, but that we would try again since the fog was moving and things might improve. After twenty minutes or so we tried again. This time we could clearly see the ground and we were sure we would land. But again, at the last moment, we pulled back up and the landing gear was retracted. Moans and sighs filled the plane and it was announced that we must return to Portland. Apparently, the pilot was not comfortable with the visibility.
As I sat contemplating my predicament and options, it occurred to me that others had it much worse. The woman sitting across from me only had five hours to see her first granddaughter. Her opportunity was lost. Others had missed important meetings or connecting flights. For me, it was just an inconvenience. The previous few days, I had struggled to decide whether I would drive to the airport (and pay $30 in parking fees) or take the train. Had I taken the train, my situation would have been much worse; I would have had to take the two-hour trip back home to my car so that I could drive it – or wait several hours at the airport. Upon our return to Portland, we were told the next flight departed at 4:30 in the afternoon and it was only 10:00 at the time.
While we were all still in the same area, I loudly asked if anybody was interested in carpooling. A young lady quickly answered in the affirmative. She lived overseas and had no car. I was the quickest way for her to get to her destination. Nobody else expressed any interest, so it was just the two of us. As it turned out, we talked the whole trip and she even got an education on white racial consciousness. She insisted on buying a tank of gas for me and a little more. So in the end, I saved some money and acquired a new friend. I do hope that things turned out as well for others on that ill-fated trip.
Rogue Valley? I suppose you’ve never heard of Roger Fredinburg.