Yesterday Horizon Air flight 2425 was delayed nearly 9 hours. Far too many of these hours my sister and I laid trapped in the Medford airport pinned between the incessant southern Oregon heat and an unshakable Seattle fog. (This, shockingly, is not a nice place to be after a fun extended weekend cavorting with friends and family at your cousin’s wedding.)

Previously my life’s experiences have taught me two facts about my own personal hell. The first being that it is lined nearly exclusively with Astroturf, and not the cool new Nike stuff made with recycled tires and long dexterous fibers, but the nasty stuff that shreds exposed skin like cheese in a rusted grater. The second fact is that cantaloupe flourishes on this Astroturf.

Finally now I can definitively add the first built structure to my personal hell’s plain of turf and muskmelon: the Rogue Valley International Medford Airport.

With the weather not cooperating and Horizon flights fully booked and delayed system-wide, Kelly and I opted to fly to Portland and rent a car to Seattle, beating our would-be flight by a good margin and saving us a few precious hours of Medford-time. No refund on the ticket or the rental car, but considering the circumstances I think we made a very good choice.