A Lil Portland Kayak Porn… just a lil

“Chicken Girl?” The border agent raised an eyebrow at my license plate, which read: CHKNGRL.
“I’m a chicken farmer. … amongst other things.” I imagined myself answering the question as I side-pulled dark glasses off my face, allowing my lucious blonde hair to bounce across my face and shrouding my eyes in mystery with a gentle bite of my lower lip: chicken farmer by society, danger extradanoire by passion. Realistically, I muttered the answer with deep embarassment as I scolded myself, don’t tell him you can cluck like a chicken, don’t tell him you can cluck like a chicken.
“Huh. Ok.”
Awkward silence.
“Australia?” He gestured to Lydia. “What’re you two up to?”
“I pretty much found her. We’re going on an adventure.”
“Huuuh… Ok,” he passed the pages of her passport through his fingers. “How long will you be in the states?”
“I fly out in February.” Lydia answered quickly. More silence.
“… have a nice time, Chicken Girl.” The agent raised the gate for us.

And with that we had entered the States once again. Seattle was two hours away, where a good friend I had met the year before in Alaska now lived: Maegan, absolutely magical Maegan. It was a simple, east stay with Maegan, giving us the chance to relax after living on the road the whole time. We slept in and ate scraps that survived the drive, and she worked the majority of the time, but even five mintues with Maegan is a blessing. But the road beckoned again, to Hood River with Jay and microbrews, and finally to Portland. Lydia’s adventure was fast ending.

But before she left, I made her go kayaking. I mean, come on! If she’s gonna talk like a kayaker beside an actual kayaker for a few weeks she has to go kayaking at least once! And she did. It was hilarious. She was so out of her element, but she rocked it. Later, she scrolled through the pictures, and, having forgotten what boat she paddled, assumed the pictures of me were pictures of her (we look fairly similar); to which she later asked, “can I just take your pictures and pretend they’re me so I can show my family how badass I am? I look like a natural… but it’s really you… they don’t need to know that.”

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