"Northern Lights" - Alaska
	Day 5:  Sunday, July 21, 2002

We left Seward around 9am, after a brief detour of no long-term consequence, and as such, no further mention.  The first 40 minutes was spent backtracking along Highway 9 to the intersection that would take us to Homer.  The next two hours and change were spent driving to Homer.  Completely without incident.  (Yes, I was a bit disappointed as well.)  Fortunately, things began picking up slightly when we arrived.

At 12:25pm, we reached Homer, Alaska.  It's what you call the end of the land, if you've not seen it on a map.  Or, you could just look for a restaurant that is probably named appropriately.  I will give them this, though -- when the put up a pedestrian crossing sign, they post an appropriate one.  What I want to really know is, do we keep getting weird stares from strangers because of how adorable I am, or because the bald one looks sort of funny to others?  You decide.

We passed through Soldotna, but found that there wasn't anything else in town that amused me, so we continued.  They did have a bunch of car dealerships for a town of 3,500 people.  About a half hour from Soldotna, we passed another moose.  How did we find it?  Easy - everyone on the road was stopped and taking pictures like a bunch of zoo-bound slacked jawed yokels.  (We passed the dunchees on the left-hand side, and were on our way, unimpeded.)  According to lifelong Alaska resident Crystal, it's pretty unusual to see moose in the low areas during the summer, but come winter, seeing moose is like shooting fish in a barrel.  (Crystal was also able to amplify several personal stories involving firing wayward pellets at local guys, a roll of lost film, and of a distant father in Texas and his 300 relatives.  She's 5'8, with a brother, Ben, who's 6'5".  Crystal wearing a size 7½ mens' shoe.)

A 13-mile detour turned out to be very well done.  The Portage Valley and the associated signs for "glaciers" were right on the money, and we got to see a bunch of glaciers.  Cool. Well, frozen, really.  And as you'd expect, the rivers and streams are all very, very pale blue.  The blue in the glaciers doesn't come out as well in the pictures, but it's not bad.  The stream is also quite nice, but again, not as blue as it is in person.  And yes, just another glacier picture.  Of course, there may be some confusion as to why there are glaciers in the mountains... if you're like me, you may have thought glaciers floated in the ocean.  Nope, those are icebergs.  A glacier is just the same thing, except across land.  Unless you prefer long-winded explanations, go here.

The thrills all started when I got back to Anchorage, this time.  First, dinner.  We went to Kentucky Fried Chicken, because of some odd craving for popcorn chicken after listening to numerous commercials for KFC featuring the chicken, and whats-his-name... Jason Alexander.  So, we arrive.  After looking like we had to view the menu board to make our pre-determined order, we speak to the headset-wearing girl and place our order.  The total being $5.36, which was surprisingly low considering how filling it turned out to be.

And then it begins.  We turn around.  In one of the three booths (which are across from the two sets of tables), is seated a large, shirtless man and his waif-like wife.  Surrounding them like barnacles on a submarine, are five children - four free-range varieties, and one restrained in a child seat.  Or so you'd think.  The little kid in the seat isn't misbehaving, so the shirtless daddy pushes him from the table.  Thus, he's now crying, but old enough to know that by hopping, the chair moves forward slightly.  So, we now have crying and the banging of the chair into the floor.  But -- don't forget there's four other kids.  Two of the four are without shoes.  Glancing at the door, I confirmed there is no sign addressing no service for those if you're missing shoes and/or shirts. 

Douggie, the assistant manager (actual names may vary), decided to entertain the children when they came to the counter to see what the "Comments?" cards are used for...  and he gives each of the children some sort of toy thing.  That's it, Douggie -- like giving food to stray cats, they're now there to stay.  (What I should have pointed out was their food was no where to be seen, and here, 30 minutes later, they're still there, lingering.)  We left with the sound of five roaming children yelling and screaming at one another, and dad, apparently either deaf or oblivious to the sounds of his children.  (Or rather, the children I presume are his.)  So, we left, walking by their Jeep Cherokee 4x4, which amazed both myself and the boy in that only one child car seat was in the car, and at least three of those children should have been restrained by car seats.  (And all of them should be restrained when in public.)

Off to the hotel.  We proceeded from the KFC at Old Seward Highway and East 46th Street to A Street and East 5th Street.  The lobby is crammed with people, all being served by desk clerk Jaye (a girl, if you're wondering).  Since the Frank travel services folks do all of our travel plans via hotwire.com whenever possible.  Jaye hands the boy a key, and we head up to room 406.  And stand at the door, we stand, and stand, and stand.  It seems the key doesn't work.  Back downstairs, and we get a key that works. 

Maybe 10 minutes later, there are two people at the door, trying to figure out why their key doesn't work.  (Which is good, because I was strutting around in nothing but my down.)  It seems in Jaye's haste, she didn't book us into the room, so she booked someone else into our room a few minutes later.  Of course, in the interest of customer service, she came up, knocked on the door and explained the whole story.  Just what I was hoping for -- yet another opportunity to have to answer the door.

As we headed in with our baggage, we passed a mammoth SUV with this plate.  It's probably just me, but the identifier of "Personalized" is a bit over-stated, don't you think?

And the boy amused himself with back-to-back episodes of The Simpsons while I slaved away writing an update.  My favorite commercial is the one for the Alaska McDonald's, that begins with "The days are getting shorter, but that doesn't mean..."  What...?  Going from 19 hours, 46 minutes of daylight to 19 hours and 40 minutes of daylight, is a cause of alarm?  I don't know that I'll "get" this place.

In reading literature about this fair place, this Last Frontier, this Alaska, it seems the odds of seeing the Northern Lights on this trip is about as great as the boy getting an invitation to date Leelee Sobieski.  It seems it has to be "dark", which doesn't happen at a time where there are 18-20 of daylight a day.  Drat.