Western Excursions - Summer 2010

Sorry, folks, that this post is a bit late. We got back to our Vegas hotel room and I couldn’t for the life of me figure how to make the Internet work. Defeated, I just resigned myself to bed for the evening…only to awake the next morning to see the Internet cable 3 feet from my head. Vegas, 1. Ellen’s powers of observation, 0.

Also, for those just joining us, this blog is documenting the entire Porter West Coast adventure, not just the reunion. Someone just happened to let slip yesterday at the concluding meeting for our reunion that I was keeping a blog of the trip, so there have been a few requests for me to send this blog out to everyone. Hmmm, I will do this, but with a disclaimer: I ramble, I remark, I misspell and I make bad jokes. If you can put up with a nineteen-year-old’s stream of consciousness, then by all means, read on :).

The Concluding Meeting

The sun rose on a flurry of activity here in Estes Park. Everyone was running around packing, grabbing breakfast, calling airlines to confirm flights, and sentimentally staring at the campground that housed and (attempted to) feed us these past few days. Or in my case, the sun rose on an oversleeping teenager who only semi managed to make herself presentable once the pounding knock on the door by her mother revealed that she was running quite late. Typical.

We met up and formed a large circle in the conference room that was our central meeting place for the entire reunion. Always prepared, several large poster boards were already hung up and markers were uncapped, ready for us to start creating a giant pros and cons list for the reunion and to brainstorm ideas for the next reunion in 3 years. Ch-yeah, we take reunion-ing to the next level. None of this last minute, thrown together get-togethers for us. No sirree. We Porters are hard-core to the max.

So a quick summary of the meeting:

·         Excellent planning by Deanne Butterfield and Ruth York (virtual high-five!)

·         Awesome activities like horseback riding and competitive putt-putting. I guess I’ll include hiking under this list, though I don’t know if I would consider walking in circles, lost in the woods, “awesome”.

·         Super cool family members. Can’t have a successful reunion without them.

·         And plenty of liquor for when we needed a little extra help dealing with the super coolness of our family members.

·         Large location – normally I assume everyone I bump into at reunions is somehow related to me. The fact that other families were also present in Estes Park forced me to actually know who all I was related to. A shocking concept.

·         The food. Let’s just say it left a lot to be desired. And it made my dorm food from this past year look gourmet.

·         Altitude – well this was on the cons list, but personally it was on my pros list. It totally allowed me to keep lying to myself as to the true reason why I was huffing and puffing after climbing one flight of stairs.

Finally, we grabbed a couple of unfortunate volunteers to decide the location and host of the next reunion. Not all of these volunteers were present. Tehehe, that’s what you get for taking off early! Just kidding…

We finished off our reunion with a round robin with everyone saying what was the most gratifying, impressive, or poignant experience from the weekend. Or the GIP session, as I liked to call it. Luckily the words weren’t switched around or it would’ve been the PIG session.

Ok, that was my final lame joke of this section. Cue: serious, heartfelt reflection time.

This round robin, which I initially thought was going to be very lame (no offense, John), turned out to be one of the most touching experiences of the reunion. Everyone was given the opportunity to speak on the experience that mean the most to them, and it became a really powerful bonding moment as emotions were laid bare and people poured out their hearts.

Now this being said, as soon as the first eye started misting up, I became a blubbering fool, bawling my eyes out in the corner. Others soon followed, and we all bonded over a single passed tissue box that was completely empty by the time we got all the way around the circle. And that fact right there meant a lot to me. The fact that our get-togethers, however short they may be, manages to mean so much to people that there wasn’t a dry eye in the room, that says a lot. And it’s a testament to what a loving and tightly bound family we have become, despite the physical distance that lies between us the other 2 years and 361 days between reunions.

Finally, after I cried out about 10 pounds of body fluids, we all got up and gave our final goodbyes. Or at least, temporary goodbyes, as we sure to see most of us again in a 3 years time. Or sooner, if you are a poor college student like myself and like to crash on the couches of family members rather than at hotels when travelling.

All in all, it was great getting to see everyone. I love you fam! And if you want to see more pics from the reunion, check out my web album at: http://picasaweb.google.com/115787829715255758995

Ok, if you are still reading this, props to you. I know it is getting a little lengthy and not relevant to most. Family members, that was the end of the reunion section. However, the blog will still continue for the rest of our West Coast adventures, so you are more that welcome to keep reading. In fact, I would be honored. But feel no obligation to. And if you manage to stick it out til next Saturday, I’ll post my link to the blog I’ll be keeping for my India trip! (You would think I just offered you free candy with how I just phrased that. “If you keep reading my teenage ramblings, I’ll reward you with…the opportunity to read MORE teenage ramblings!”) Again, no obligations, but just throwing it out there.

We left Estes Park, Colorado and once again, in a manner typical of any time I travel, I spent the two hour ride back gazing at the scenic sights of my inner eyelids. We did stop briefly by a bubbling brook to eat our packed lunches given to us by the YMCA. Upon opening them, we were delighted to find that we received not one, but TWO peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. This delighted me far more than it should’ve.

Once back in Denver, we dropped off the rental car at Alamo, where the rental car man was a flurry of efficiency. He had our car inspected, our information recorded, and our receipt printed before I could finish my sleepy stutter of “Where are we?”

The Denver airport was exactly the same way. The super nice Southwest man helped my efficiency-impaired family navigate the ticket stand. The security man sent us to the “secret” security line that had no people waiting (and by secret I mean the less used one at the end of the airport). Dad did get searched. Again. AND, the best part was, we ran in to a bajillion family members also in the airport. You know how it can sometimes be awkward running into someone after you already said goodbye? Not us. We started keeping a tally of how many people we could scream joyfully at across the airport while jumping up and down waving frantically. We got 6. The man sitting next to me began looking uneasy as you could see him debating whether or not to call the nearest psych ward.

The flight was uneventful. I read the Reader’s Digest that was left in the seat pocket and learned that New Jersey ranks #45 on the nation’s best roads. I couldn’t believe it. You mean there are 5 WORSE states than New Jersey?! (Sorry, if I have any New Jersey readers but I hate driving in your state. You stole my hubcap.) Also, the pilot started off the flight telling us that the current temperature in Las Vegas was 110 degrees. Yayyyy.

We arrive in Las Vegas and are immediately greeted with the ever classy slot machines located right near our arrival gate. Welcome to Sin City. We also saw a poster for Thunder from Down Under, the hot Australian men dancing show that was playing at our hotel. John Alex aspired to be one of them:

After an absolutely hell-ish experience with our rental car (don’t rent Dollar in Las Vegas), much screaming when we realized that Las Vegas roads aren’t lined, an epic search for a parking space, and much weaving between the crowds consisting of the classiest and fittest Americans, we finally make it to our hotel room. Located on the 22^nd floor I might add. Look at our cool hotel!

After dropping off our stuff, we hit up the casino. Sticking a dollar into the nearest slot machine, we crank the handle, push the button, and…we lost. Surprise! Vegas stole our money. Exemplifying the Aesop fable of Sour Grapes, we bitterly mutter that we didn’t want to play slots anyway and left to go explore the hotels.

Ok, just a question. Who would fly all the way out to Vegas to stay in a hotel named New York, New York? Yes the building was a cool replica of the Big Apple, but I still don’t understand it. Eventually, tired of battling the crowds holding giant plastic guitars, filled with beverages and attached straws, we all retire for the evening. Vegas, +$1, Porter family, -$1. The House always wins.

By the way, if you made it through this entire post, accolades to you. This turned out to be WAY longer than I expected and I, for one, am very familiar with the decreasing American attention span. So thanks if you made it this far!

Signing out.