Coked to the Gills

It's been a while since I traveled to Corvallis. As I am thinking this, a crisis pops up and I am called to jet across the world to help with it. I pack my bags. The wife is also going to be travelling to LA later this year. She shows me her itinerary. She is going for a three day conference and her whole trip will last thirty days. She is spending the rest of the time visiting with friends and hiking the trails. Not a bad plan, I think and a germ of an idea begins to form in my mind. I work in a week’s vacation and start planning for a road trip. But more about that later.

My flight takes me through Dubai. The first leg is short and sweet. Dubai to Seattle is the long leg of over 14 hours. I am in 39C and I squeeze in. The seats seem to be getting smaller each time I travel or maybe it’s just my gut which is getting bigger. I am seated next to a strange guy. I try to think of what is wrong with him and it suddenly hits me. He is built upside down – his feet smell and his nose runs.  I wait for the liquor service to start. Thank God for small mercies. I quickly get drunk. To sit next to this guy for any length of time, drunkenness is absolutely mandatory.

I land in Seattle to good weather. The temperature is exactly half of what it was in Bangalore although it is sunny. This is a welcome relief from the sweltering heat of Bangalore though it makes me feel cold. I pull on an extra sweater and get weird looks from people around me who are all in shorts. 

I drive leisurely, enjoying the feeling of déjà vu as I pass familiar landmarks. I tune the radio to my favorite station. Someone is talking about the salmon in Oregon. Apparently, people have been flushing cocaine and Prozac down the drain, though why they would do that I have no idea. This ultimately ends up in the river and the salmon absorb and accumulate this in their bodies. This explains why they are jumping up river. They must be feeling pretty high being ‘coked to the gills’, so to speak. I don’t grudge them their high – I mean, wouldn’t you do drugs if you had to swim 900 miles upriver to have sex once and die? I decide to eat salmon at every opportunity. It’s an easy and legal way to get a hit.

P has a hot meal waiting for me when I arrive in Albany a few hours later. G has cooked some Indian curry to welcome the weary Indian traveler. She is a great cook and it is some of the best curry I have tasted, in India or outside. I partake heartily and feel refreshed. I steal some of P’s whisky to take back with me to the hotel. Food and drink on arrival – it doesn’t get much better than that!

 Friday night finds me at Flattail Brewing, meeting up with old friends. Old habits die hard and we make our way to the Peacock. The women of Corvallis seem to love the top of the ‘cock! I meet Al here. Al was a kid when we used to live in Corvallis many years ago but he is grown up enough now to legally drink in a bar. J is playing the fool as usual and Al pulls me aside “What are you doing with that woman?” he asks. “Be careful of her. She is a hustler!” It’s sweet to see this young man looking out for me.

They decide to put the cheap Indian labor to good use and I end up cooking at Tiffs the following day. Of course, we have salmon. The Americans have never eaten real Indian food and they are easy to fool; which works out well for me and my culinary skills. It’s either that or the coke in the salmon is doing its thing and making everybody happy.

Work is hectic and the days go by quickly. A part that was supposed to be here when I arrived was shipped on time, but ended up in Singapore. It takes a few frantic phone calls to track it down and get someone to overnight it back to Corvallis. It arrives a week later and I am about a bit apprehensive of whether I will be able to get it to work in time. My road trip is at risk if it doesn’t work. The electronic Gods smile down on us and it works like a charm. My work here is done. I can start planning my road trip.