I capitalize it because it was pretty cool, and I don't know what else it should be called. It was a gondola style skyway commuter deal:
We made it to the "base-camp" around 8:40, and it was packed. People were parking their bikes and filling the gondola. They were all dressed quite well, either in nurse-like scrubs or suits, no one was older than fifty, and they carried themselves in an uber-professional manner, if that makes sense.
The Tram carried the workers and students for the OSHU from a commuter hub near the banks of the Willamette River up to the complex on top of the nearby mountain in two minutes flat, an easy twenty minute drive. It turns out that OSHU stands for Oregon Science and Health University.
I wanted to rock the gondola, but Corrie would have attacked me. At least I would have been surrounded by doctors.
Here's a view of the tram car heading back after making a dropoff:
The cars could hold thirty or forty people. They were pretty comfy, but even better on the reutrn trip, when it was occupied by less than a dozen people. There were two sides, and one at this hour traveled up every four minutes or so.
The view of downtown Portland from inside is only obscured by your own reflection on the glass:
After returning to downtown but before leaving to catch our flight, we stopped in at a pair of chocolatiers to get some treats for the ladies with whom my wife works. Moonstruck was the first, and I ordered a medium sized dark hot chocolate.
It was good, but I had been expecting even more chocolate-ness. At the second place we actually tried what they were calling the "chocolate drink". After sampling it I realized that's what I should have had at Moonstruck. The name of the second place was Kakao. Chocolate drink was sold in smaller portions and was much, much thicker, made primarily with heavy cream. Mine was fantastic, but it was like drinking brownie batter.
After the hot chocolate and chocolate drink, and finishing Corrie's chocolate drink, I was assed out on dairy products. I'd made it to that rare moment: too much chocolate for me...
The Portland airport, abbreviated in a way that is used by many folks to abbreviate the area in general, PDX, didn't cause too much of an issue, of course it wan't as fast as the Long Beach airport, but what is?
When we arrived back in Long Beach we started to reflect a little on the weather. In Portland, it had been beautiful. The skies were mostly blue, the temperatures hovered between 60 and 73, with the only chilly times being once the wind kicked up at night. Long pants and t-shirts were comfortable, but having a sweatshirt was mostly necessary.
When we got home? 76, no clouds, blue skies, slight breeze, and the need to change into shorts was real. As we walked to find a cab, Corrie said, "I love getting home from our trips; the weather is always better here."
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