It's a long way from Virginia to Alaska, and a plane-change in Portland only lengthens the trip. It was pitch dark when we landed in Anchorage last night and although my weary nose was pressed to the plexiglass, I couldn't really make out a thing. The taxi ride to the hotel was a brief blur past darkened windows on deserted streets. It was the middle of the night here, but it was early morning back home, and we were tired. Fortunately, the clerk at the front desk checked us in quickly, and we were on our way to the eighth floor when it hit me that we were really in... Alaska.
Years ago my sister took my oldest nephew to visit my mom. At three, he had been hearing all his life that Grandma "lived in MInnesota" and he was excited about the trip. Once there, though, he seemed a little disappointed. "Minnedota looks just like a house!" he observed.
And that's kind of how I felt last night. "Heidi," I said, "Alaska looks just like an elevator!"
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