I've come a long way since Gate E8 at PDX, and unfortunately, I have not found the Internet and a block of free time join forces until now.

It's 11:08 p.m. in Warsaw, Poland. I'm sitting in my "Go Beavs" T-shirt and my plaid blue pajama pants on the 31st floor of the 5-star Marriot Hotel in the heart of the city. My shoulders ache from lugging too much luggage from Portland to New York to Poland. My legs are sore from a 30 minute walk from the old city back to the hotel.

But finally we're here, and we can sleep. Until 7 a.m., when a wake-up call will jolt us from our slumber and force us into motion in order to be on the Giant Bus by 8 a.m. with breakfast down the hatch. And then it's off to Krakow, where we'll spend the day at two concentration camps -- Auschwitz and Birkenau.

But like I said ... a lot has happened up to this point, and it would be a shame to leave it there. So here we roll:

NEW YORK

Don't ever allow yourself to go to New York City for only one night, and don't let the night feature an 8 a.m. wakeup call. I arrived at LaGuardia airport at about 5:45, and made it to Grand Central Station by about 6:30 or so, where I made a stupid decision in waking four-plus blocks to the hotel with a backpack and two other bags instead of hailing a cab for a ride that wouldn't have been too expensive. But I made it, encased in sweat. So I showered, changed, had a sandwich, and rode the subway uptown to visit Uncle Rob and Rose.

THE FLIGHT

I had a feeling she might be an interesting person to ride to Warsaw with. I was right.

The plane from JFK airport had seats set up like this-- {} {} {}{}{} {}{} -- I was in the middle section of 3 seats on an aisle, and a young woman from Poland was on the other aisle. Nobody had the middle seat, and we both knew we lucked out. In my imagination, the vacant space meant I could spread out in any direction without causing any sort of problem. If I wanted, I thought to myself, I could bring down the unused tray table and go wild by putting my warm Pepsi there. Really though, in the beginning, the vacant seat was nothing more than a palce to put our free headphones. We shraed a glance as we both set them down in the vacant seat at the same time as if to say to each other, "Wow, what amazing seats we have ... look at all this space!" We both surely were surveying the others on the plane, those poor bastards who had to have a person right next to them, breathing, moving, sleeping, drooling, talking in foreign languages. "Yes," we said to each other with that quick glance that didn't quite qualify as a smile, "We're flying like kings today."

Thath was the end of our interaction. Partially because I was trying to get some sleep and partially because she was busy talking with her two friends in the seats in the other direction. She even turned her whole body toward them, talking to them in Polish, completely ignoring that fact that I might want to make small talk and show off my knowledge of world affairs.

I started drifting off into sleep, but flashes of consciousness move the story foward:

Flash: The girl gets up, heads toward the restroom, and the guy friend from the other seat takes hers.

Flash: "Excuse me" she says, waking me. "Would you like to sit here?" I was groggy and not quite sure what she was talking about. But then it made sense ... the three friends wanted to sit together. Sure enough, that was the case. I gave up my seat for a window seat and a buffer aisle seat, all to myself. It was perfect. This was right before the in-flight movie came on -- "Lassie" -- and I went right to sleep.

Flash: The three Polish friends, the one girl I met originally, a guy, and another girl, share a drink of hard liquor mixed into orange juice. They get a little festive, a litte loud. And even during "Lassie." More sleep.

Flash: I glance over at the three Polish friends and the girl and the guy are cuddling together. Oh, I realized, they're a couple. And they have another female friend who was sitting and looking straight ahead as the other two may or may not have been fiercely making out. I go back to sleep.

Flash: "Excuse me," It's her again. "Do you want to sit ..." I couldn't beleive it, and again I was confused, but I figured that she wanted me to go back to the middle area because she and boyfriend wanted to make out in a slightly move private space. Fair enough. What do I care where I sit. The alternative seat in each case had a buffer ... I didn't have to risk brushing up against anyone. And that's the kind of flight for me.

It's about meal time -- breakfast -- as we prepare for our morning arrival in Poland. The second girl wakes up to find her friends gone and me in their place. We share a "hello" glance. She looks over at her friends -- the girl's feet now resting on the seatback in front of her -- and shakes her head. Girl 1 had plenty to drink. When she asked if I was OK with changing seats a second time, with booze on her breath, she asked where I came from. I answered, "The United States."

After breakfast, Girl 2 -- named Aneta -- and I began to chat, a conversation that began with shared smiles regarding her drunken friend who was beginning to catch the attention of the cabin crew. She's from a city three hours away from Warsaw, and she'd spend the previous three weeks in New York City on vacation. I didn't press for more details, and I didn't get any. We talked about other things ... learning English, where I was going, what to expect in Poland, etc. Then I asked a question I thought I already knew the answer to:

"So the three of you went to New York together?" I asked, gesturing toward the drunk girl and who I assumed was the drunk grils's boyfriend.

"No no ... we met on the plane."

"You met on the plane ... like ... today?"

"Yeah ..." she said, beginning to laugh. "And they make out! They're crazy."

So my entire conception of the situation was way off. The make-out session, possibly fueled by alcohol, appeared to be nothing more than a one-flight stand. That appeared to be the end of the story.

Drunk girl wasn't too drunk to recall that I was the guy she'd asked to move twice to accomodate her makeout session. As we waited to leave the plane, she smiled, and asked, for the second time in two hours "Where do you come from?"

Bravo.

There is no punchy ending to this story ... to make it punchy I'd have to make something up. But Aneta, if you're reading this, next time I'm in Poland we should meet up for a coffee and make fun of Drunk Girl and Mr. Hookup. Or at least we can make sure to be in their wedding.

OH RIGHT, AND IN POLAND ...

We toured what remains of the old Warsaw Ghetto from the 1940s, where Jews were forced to live. They didn't know it at the time, but the Ghetto was just the first step in Hitler's plan to kill them all. Get them in one place. Train them to camps. Muder them all.

Heavy stuff, but as one of the chaperones pointed out, there's more heavy stuff to come as we head to Krakow and stand inside the death camps.

WHEN I HAVE TIME / IF I HAVE TIME

I'll write more about what I've seen and done, but now I really should sleep to avoid another day like today ... where despite being in an amazing city seeing history up close, I wanted nothing more than a bed and a shower. Finally those things have come. Good day.

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