When I think back to that fateful April day when the Trail Blazers were awarded the #1 pick, I can still feel the goosebumps on my skin. I still hear the voices, shouting in the post-pubescent chords, of myself and my friends Casey, Nick and Matt. I still remember the incredible sense of “we’re here, we’re back; everything is going to be fine!” Travel from that April afternoon into the future, well the present, and you find that those feelings of hope, elation, exuberance are as faded as denim and replaced with a sullen and downtrodden countenance unsure of where to look. The future looked so incredibly bright and full of promise, until cloud by cloud, just like a Portland winter, the light was choked by the cumulus cover. It’s actually sinisterly poetic how Portland’s dreariness is a metaphor for what has occurred with the Portland Trail Blazers the last five years: just when you think there will be a chance for sunshine, you get dumped on in an unrelenting fashion.
When I decided that I was going to make the expedition out to New York, not only was I looking for a cheapest and most direct flight. What kind of flight fits that description? You got it, a red eye! Off I was on JetBlue flying out of Portland Wednesday eve at 10 PM and arriving in New York Thursday morning around 6:10 AM. I hadn’t traveled on a red eye before and of course I wasn’t going to sleep on the plane: I was sitting on the aisle and any movement would brush up against my shoulder causing me to jostle awake. While sleep was a no-go, mashing on the free snacks was the move as I kept my energy level up as best I could with the healthiest selection of Fritos, cookies and these things called Popcorners (snag yourself some, they are delicious). When we finally got taxi’d and linked up with JFK’s terminal, I was running on about 6 hours sleep from the Tuesday to this point and I was getting hungrier by the step. Continue reading A Brooklyn Chapter: Red Eyes, Honduran Colombians and Directions