Posts Tagged ‘MAX’

April’s Fool Dispatch: Day Two

Thursday, April 2nd, 2009
April’s Fool Tour: Day 2

supernormalrecords, Portland, Public Transit Tour

Spare Plane
Leaving Phoenix proved to be a little more challenging than the itinerary on my Southwest Airlines Ticket-less Travel Confirmation print out had claimed.  The pilot exited the cockpit and rocked the mic informing the passengers in esoteric terminology that there was a computer failure and we would be delayed 20 minutes while they repaired the navigation system.  This comforted me, oddly enough, due to the fact that at the last turn down the walkway – you know the one where you take that final step of faith into the aircraft and you can see the outside of the fuselage and hear the engines just outside the little accordion thingy, I saw something disconcerting. 
 
The pilots announcement comforted me because as I was taking that step-of-faith I spied a maintenance worker writing a work-order and I peeped over his shoulder and there were the pilots comments written on the sheet.  All I could make out before I stepped onto the plane was the word computer and FAIL! 
Trusting in the diligence of Southwest Airlines and all their crew was a wise decision I found my seat and settled in.  The pilot informed us promptly and we waited patiently.   Eventually we taxied down the tarmac to the end of the runway.  The plane made that fateful turn and where there is usually an un-earthly whoosh of the engines and a incredible amount of G-force there was solely a click and the pilot’s voice.
 
“As you may have noticed we made a wrong turn.  That was intentional.  Apparently, the problem is not fixed so we are heading back to the gate.  Thank you for your infinite patience.”
 
We ended up de-planing and walking a circle back through terminal 4 at Sky Harbor International Airport.  The pilot had informed us that we would board a spare plane.  I thought, “wow, a spare plane who knew there were just extra planes hanging around?”  We departed about an hour late and people were complaining and whining about their appointments.  Perhaps they would rather descend into the inevitable cloud cover of Portland, Oregon without a Navi?  Best we live fellow travellers… Best we live and be late.  
 
Max Busted
Portland Oregon is world renowned for it’s public transit.  They have a light-rail system they call The Max, which I mentioned in the previous post, takes travellers directly from the airport to city center in no-time.  When I exited the Portland International Airport (PDX) there were Tri-met employees in official garb directing travellers to shuttle buses that were running the Max Red-Line route to the city.  The Max was down for repairs.   I realized that this trip was to be an improvisation of transit and all things moving.  Just like the theme of this tour – it’s a shoot from the hip shot-in-the-dark good-timin’ kinda thing. 
 
Portland Oregon Hostel supernormal records tyler
Hawthorne Traveller’s Hostel
Hawthorne Langhorn
Ya see-ya see, I stay in the Hawthorne Travellers Hostel in a district of Portland, Oregon called Hawthorne.  Named for the Boulevard that is the epicenter of this bohemian mecca.  The original resident of Hawthorne Boulevard was an insane asylum and wackiness still prevails in all things along this stretch of asphalt.  Over 300 local independent shops/restaurants/bars line the boulevard and some of the best reasons to visit Portland are on Hawthorne Boulevard.  If you hit this city and miss Hawthorne you missed the point, Journeymen.  The Hawthorne Hostel is an embodiment of a sensibility that is pervasive in the hearts and minds of Oregonians in general. The hostel has an ecoroof.  The rooftop is covered in plant-life to limit the structures impact on the environment.  Also, new this year is the hostel’s newly-installed water reclamation system.  Rainwater is collected from the roof of the hostel and conditioned and used as a non-potable water source.  The toilets flush with rainwater, wa-wa from the roof  for the pee-pee in the turlet.  A bit of ingenuity that utilizes the frequent rainfall in this part of the country.  Now, if we could just get Arizonans to use solar panels, perhaps we could make an impact similar to that of the Hawthorne Hostel. 
 
Alberta Street Public House
After checking in and stowing my belongings I grabbed the guitar case and jumped on the 14 Hawthorne bus to MLK transferred to the 6 and then to the 72 and it dropped me on the front door of the pub where I was to strike the first note in this unorthodox tour: The April’s Fool Tour.  How’d it go?  I was lucky enough to capture some video of one song, so here it is:
Post-show the rain was kind enough to only creep up from the street via my jeans to about mid-leg before I arrived home.  I went to bed at 1 am early for this town, but, the full day of travel followed by a rock show took it’s toll on my 30 year old frame and I climbed up on my bunk and was out in a jiff.  Interesting side note: when I was checking in yesterday, Hillary behind the desk said
 
“You will be in the St. Helen’s room which is downstairs and-”
 
“Don’t tell me it’s St. Helen’s 2?”, I replied.
 
“How could you guess that?”, she said. 
 
“That’s the same bunk I had last year!”
 
“Wow!  Here’s to serendipity, looks like it’ll be a great trip.”, she said as she handed me my linens and I headed downstairs.
 
Things like that tend to happen to me when I travel.  For instance, at the Fat Straw (an Internet coffee shop where I do my uploads and write blogs) I went to YouTube and signed in still was a moniker that I used to use to write fake reviews of my music years ago before I decided not to fake it and just be legit.  I won’t give you the name to protect the account holder.  I promptly logged out after I said, “Noooo way!”  But it blew my freaking mind. 
 
Video a go-go
On this tour I am supplementing my text and photo based blogs with video.  I am currently staring at the screen waiting for the uploads to complete.  When YouTube does it’s trick I’ll post a little ‘walking tour’ of P-land for your work-averting pleasure.  
 
What’s next?  How’s about a little Stumptown Stroll?
  • View the next post for the video debut of “Stumptown Stroll: Tyler’s walking tour of Portland, Oregon”
  • Tune in tomorrow for “Stumptown Stroll: Hawthorne Boulevard”  
 

April’s Fool Dispatch: Day One

Wednesday, April 1st, 2009

April's Fool Tour Poster

Greet the Day 

The day began with a screeching alarm at 4:30 am.  Then the sudden realization that I was late for something, immediately followed by the sweet discovery that today is April 1st.  April Fools Day and the beginning of what will be called the April’s Fool Tour.  I’m late for nothing.  In fact, in the world of Rock n Roll, I’m early.  Way early.  My flight leaves Phoenix at 9 am and I’ve got a few more hours to tie up loose ends and grab the satchel and skedaddle.  The next few days belong to me and the Muse.  Portland Oregon and my music.  And I’m sure I’ll work in a fair amount of malted barley and choice hops.  Perhaps even sample a little Northwestern vinification.  There’s something waiting for me at the bottom of a bottle of whatever-you-got;  An Idea, a song, a laugh, or a new friend.      
 

Time-Warp

Before bed last night I packed my bag, put the guitar and camera’s in their proper place and prepped the coffee for an easy fire-up in the AM.  I’ve done this before but the pre-departure is always like a fuzzy dream.  It’s usually done through one blood-shot eye at some freakishly early hour in the day.  Therefore, the late-night pre-trip preparations were a great idea.  I’m glad I thought of that. Because all of what I take must be carried on my back, or in my hands, I pack light.  I’m no Thurston Howell the Third.  I need not accompanying accoutrement’s.  I got my shirt, them jeans, my shoes, a git-fiddle and my soul.  I’m ready to roll.   
 

Hobo-Travel   

Years ago, I gave up the luxury of driving.  To me, it is just that: a luxury.  I’ve been untethered from a car for 6 years and I find a way to make it work in a city that is quite inhospitable to the non-driver.  So dear friends, here is an introduction to what I have termed Hobo-Travel. 
 
I live on the fringe of the Indian Reservation and about a half-mile off of the public transit routes in my city (Phoenix, AZ).    So, my morning walk consists of a half-mile stroll to Granite Reef and McDowell to catch Route 17.  This will carry me West all the way to 44th Street where I’ll transfer buses and Route 44 will jettison me South right to the heart of the Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport (PHX). 
 
 
Bus Stop Blogger.

Graffiti I can agree with. To the AZ authorities: “I am not the bus-stop blogger.”

Then, I’ll hop a big freedom bird and set flames to ancient dinosaur graves and burn a streak in the sky all the way to Portland, Oregon.  Upon arrival, I’ll gather bag, and shag-ass out the door of PDX airport and onto the Max Train.
 
Portland International Airport (PDX), and the city of Portland collectively say, “f the car.”  You can move in a town like this without your own dedicated foursome of rims.  Who needs a gas card in this town?  Call me a happy Hobo, here I come Portland.  All apologies OPEC.
 
 
The Max at The PDX Airport
 The Max Train just outside the door of PDX airport.
 
I should be on the ground around 6pm Local PDX Time, which happens to be local AZ time as well.  So, I’ll hit you with an update and post some more pictures and video of the journey thus far, then it is off to the Alberta Street Public House to strike the first note on the April’s Fool Tour. 
 

Doing Something SuperNormal

Through the creation of this little record label and standing at the precipice of the second official SuperNormal Records Tour, one thing has remained my constant.  A philosophy upon which this tiny dream of mine is perched.  We need not be great, we should not just be normal either.  All we need to strive for is to be a bit above normal = SuperNormal.  We all have our dreams and passions, these are mine and thank you for joining me on this little ride we call life. 
 
“Das Rock-n-Roll!” - Tyler Christensen
  • Please click on the links below and leave a comment.  I read these daily, it’s kinda like fuel.  Be my OPEC.  (Organization of People Entertained and/or Concerned). 
 
 

Portland, Oregon: Day 1

Sunday, May 11th, 2008

 

You have all heard about the Public Transit Tour for some time now.  Well, I packed the bags, cabbed it to the Phoenix airport and did the ceremonial strip dance for the TSA, and here we go!  

The Mobile Office,Video Production Bag,The Money-maker,The Camera-Man

The Road Kit: Travel Light Much?

PHX to PDX

supernormalrecords, Portland, Public Transit Tour

Mt. Hood From the Plane

Success right out of the gates.  The wheels touched down at 10:15 PDX local time, and as any airport designed for the quick expediting of fare paying customers, the Portland International Airport did not disappoint.  Follow the signs to baggage claim, wait impatiently for the guitar to come rolling off of the carousel…  Wait… Wait… See the guitar case flop through the rubber flaps and onto the oversize baggage stainless steel stage.  Restart pulse again.  I once lost my guitar for three hours in the Czech Republic, I feared the worst, but PDX delivered, and made short work of it.  I decided to relax a little.  Grow Slow. 

Airport Exterior

Max light Rail Redline to City Center

A View From the MAX Redline to City Center

A quick Jaunt to downtown on the MAX RED LINE rail to City Center which picks travellers up on the curb outside the airport where others are standing for someone they called on Tuesday, to pick them up on Sunday.  They didn’t want to drive on the free way down to the airport to pick-up so-and-so but nonetheless they did, and now they fain excitement and hugs and such.

Also, they most likely arrived long after I was under the smooth pull of an electric train on my way to downtown.  Public transit never pisses off friends.  The MAX will never forget you. 

As per usual, I got off at the wrong stop, I got jumpy just like I always do when I visit a new city.  I remember, in Prague, I ended up on the outskirts of town amongst communist row houses that disappeared off into the horizon while I stood on a mud street with suspicious spectators.  That was a ‘Woops’, and I think two drops of pee came out.  This time it was different.  It was roughly 11:30 AM and I was in the middle of a boisterous downtown that showed little wear.  Foot traffic abounded.  A rarity where I come from, but something so very common where I now stood.  There I stood at the 11th ave Transit Center and looked left… right… and did a few determined “set-outs” for what I assumed to be my destination before I admitted my folly and headed back to the platform to re-board another train on the same tracks heading in the general direction that I decided (at the time) was the right way to go. 

City Center – somewhat

So, it was on to the Hillsboro Blue line.  I assumed (incorrectly) that this train would shimmy left once it crossed the Willamette River and drop me in the Yamhill District.  Well, it shimmied right, I assumed it to be North at the time, (I’ll look that up later when I buy a map).  I’ll also make it a point to find an electronics store so that I can buy a USB cable for my camera then we all can see pictures of my descriptions.  For now, they rest helplessly eager in my pocket powered off and ignored until I can solve the problem for us.  Thank goodness for the gig of memory.

Brochure Truth

I am beginning to believe that Portland, Oregon is all that she claims to be: A green haven , in all senses of the word, a beatific invention that has been driven by kind and caring people who wish to live simply so that others may simply live.  I have never moved so freely in a city before.  I have never felt so welcome to do so.  At home, I get honked at and yelled at from the elitist drivers of Escalades, and let’s be honest Sentras.  The totem is tall in tinfoil-town. 

Why am I so at peace and comfortable here in Portland?  Is it because I have travelled this way before?  Or, is it because I have been destined to travel HERE for so long?  Maybe it’s experience.  Maybe it is THE experience.  I have never said hello to so many perfect strangers before in my life.  Everyone has a hello for me here.  This is beginning to seem to make sense.  This immediately felt like home.  But, enough with the gush and on to the itinerary.

Escape of the Downtown-er

supernormalrecords, Portland, Public Transit Tour

A Bus for all of Us

I finally managed to board the 14 Hawthorne Bus to cross the Willamette once again and actually (correctly) approach my intended destination: The Portland Oregon Hawthorne Travellers Hostel.  The images online do not do it justice.  It looms like a flowerbed with windows, it smells of damp wood and fresh coffee, and resonates with the murmur of sincere kind voices.  It’s filled to the brim with the errant hippie.  Good people.

Just before the 14 pulled up and brought me ‘home’ I met a local.  She suggested a tea house.  I went after I checked in and bought a card to send home and some “throat soothe” tea – whatever that is.  I soothed the throat and wrote a post card home on the porch of the Herb/Tea House, and chicken-scratch-sketched a view from the porch. 

Shortly thereafter, the rain came to Portland and it was exactly as a fellow Arizonan told me pre-departure, “it rains like once and then it clears up for the day.”  I traipsed on through it and sought out Eugenios – the 500 sq foot club that I am to perform at Friday May 16th.

Division Derision

The Hostel where I am staying is at 3031 SE Hawthorne Blvd.  Eugenios (the place I am playing Friday) is on 3584 SE Division Street, roughly one mile south and probably a quarter of a mile East of where I am staying.  I put Skecher to pavement and set out to see what it looks like in real life.  The rain came down and, no bother, I just ducked under trees and waited for the drops to resemble mist before setting out again.  I learned that one in Sweden; good trick. 

But these houses distract and what appear to be towering piles of fresh mint and Icelandic Poppies, garnished with Magnolia actually do have a house somewhere in there.  People are on their porches and one porch has a group of guitarists playing Irish tunes.  Oh, those crazy suburbanites.  Are you kidding me?!  In Arizona, you are lucky to meet your neighbor of 14 years.  It’s into the garage and out of the garage.  Neighbors are mere noises over the backyard fence.  Neighbors afraid of neighbors, critical, or despondent.

 

supernormalrecords, Portland, Public Transit Tour

Lincoln Avenue Stroll

The warm spectacle of Portland suburb life distracted me so much that I ended up on Lincoln Avenue, so it was back to the starting point and retracing the steps to see where I went wrong.  I finally stumbled upon Eugenios (on Division) and I opened the door to find that tables and chairs stacked in the dining room and two “Beard Club” members behind the bar.  Brothers of the Scruff.  My people.  I asked a whole-heartedly foolish question for someone who works in the bar business; “Are you guys open?”  (Duh, really I knew the answer it was only an ice-breaker)  Walking in on employees who are just there on a Sunday to “Cook the Meatballs” is a little like walking in on a stranger naked.  It’s not rude, just really weird and causes you to mutter inappropriate foolish phrases “oh sorry, are uh…chuckle chortle…etc.”  After confirming a return time for tomorrow, I set back out on the streets toward Hawthorne, Mecca of the non-exhibitionist bohemian.  Some Earth-children are doing it to be different.  Here on Hawthorne, they are just humans.  I can be human here.  No one has to apologize for anything, and no one seems to trespass.  A glowing revue, but, it is but, day 1.  Yet, I remain an optimist.  I don’t doubt the sincerity of nice people.

 

Fish and Chips and Several Pabst Sips.

On my walk back, get this, I strolled along side an elderly man with a hearing aide and shot the breeze.  After a brief back-and-forth, he complimented me on my timing and my keen mastery of nuance.  What?  I love it, a real conversation for conversations sake, for in true old-guy fashion, he said abruptly; “Well, I’m going this way, it’s been really nice talking with you.”  And off he went with his hearing aide taking it all in.  He’s got no time for farting around one minute longer than he cares to.  This is most-likely his scheduled walk which he has taken for twenty years, north on 36th Ave and a left on Hawthorne, and off into the mileiu.  Far be it for this whipper-snapper to alter a time-tested route.  I continued east and found a little fish and chips joint.  

Hawthorne Fish House,Eat here! : (503) 548-4434âFFFDFFFD,4343 SE Hawthorne Blvd Portland,OR

Eat here if you are here!

$2.50 Pabst Drafts and Chili Fried Cod with Jalapeno Tartar.  Hot damn!  I perused the Portland Mercury and got the super-skinny on local music happenings.  

I’ll Book it Willamette!

I had promoted to over 20 bars in the Portland Area.  I started the booking process too late and gave up too early so I never did book a night at The White Eagle, but guess what I found hiding in Courtney Ferguson’s Music Calendar.  SUNDAY MAY 11TH – Open Mic at the White Eagle.  Consider it booked.  We either make our own destiny or it remains un-made.  So it is on to the ‘goog’ to map it and then to the Tri-met website to see how I can get there, and after 8pm sometime tonight I rock Portland! 

 

The White Eagle Saloon,836 N Russel Street Portland, OR,Mcmenamins Beer on tap

Tonight’s Gig

I’ve got 9 days in this state (two of which were to be devoted to driving to wineries and seeing the coast) I think Portland just might deserve all of my devoted attention.  I just might stay and play.  I’ll let you know after I see how tonight goes.   Fly like an Eagle?  Nah, I never really liked Steve Miller, I’ll just stick to what I know… Supernormal Tyler tunes. 

 

Till later…  



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