Rogue Wanderer: Flying the Friendly Skies
Published 7:00 am Thursday, February 26, 2026
By PEGGY DOVER / for the Rogue Valley Times
I’m sure if the pilot flying in late from Houston had known about my back trouble and how waiting for hours in airport terminals sends it into fits, he would have flown faster so Lane and I wouldn’t have missed by a mile our San Francisco connection. But he didn’t know. How could he?
For a few hours we sat no closer to our southwest adventure than gate six at the Medford International Airport, when our goal was a lovely resort in Scottsdale, Arizona with saguaro sentinels flanking our approach.
Before we left, I received notice of the delay. A United agent rebooked us for a later flight into SF, which should have gotten us to Phoenix by 9 p.m. Instead of 7:30 p.m. So be it. However, that flight was also delayed and the estimated 9 o’clock arrival gradually morphed into an ugly witching hour. There was an upside. The luxury of time spent in airports gave us plenty of opportunity to spend vacation funds on airport food. Bottled water, slight, $5.79.
Frequent fliers are nodding their heads and murmuring this is vintage hat, and seems to be the norm for air travel these days. Apparently, Air Traffic Control will only allow a limited number of planes to land in San Francisco each hour.
Among airport seats, doing the dodge dance with others’ rolling carry-ons, and shoehorning into economy seats, not to mention the chocolate quinoa “cookie” snack, my constitution screamed for mercy before we’d left the tarmac to start having fun.
At last, they opened the cabin door and rolled me off the plane. Time in the air was a breeze (at 557 mph) compared with schlepping/waiting around. Through bleary eyes we followed signs to the shuttle that would eventually deliver us to the car rental area. At least I had rented ahead. This was quite a hike, but I was happy for a chance to make sure my legs still functioned.
Everyone else looked competent and self-assured. We were the freshmen on campus. The Budget kiosk was as dark and abandoned as the Bigfoot trap up in the Applegate at midnight on a Monday. The sign directed us downward to level one. I wasn’t sure we could sink much lower in our expectations but we naively climbed onto the descending escalator only to emerge into a cavernous, dark, abandoned garage.
As we stood, agape at the loneliness of our vulnerable surroundings after midnight, a friendly employee named Igor appeared out of the gloom. He directed us behind a brick building which totally obscured the Hades level rental kiosk from sight. More hiking.
Once inside, things moved quickly and we hopped aboard our snazzy cherry-red Jeep Compass. Lane capably piloted the unfamiliar auto to our resort in no time. We chose to look on the bright side because by now, it was after 1 a.m., and the roads were vacant but for an occasional tarantula.
I Googled up a promising breakfast spot called Butters for the following morning. The fun part was about to begin.
I slept well and was ready to witness what Scottsdale actually looked like after not having seen it for maybe 15 years.
Winter is definitely the time to experience this desert oasis. You can be outdoors without becoming one with your car’s upholstery. Their temp had already scratched the 80s the week prior. But while everyone here in our Rogue enclave slept ‘neath a blanket of 30 degrees and white stuff, Phoenix and surrounds had cooled to a chilly mid to upper 60s. The sky was blue with large white puffs of friendly clouds. I see by the forecast that their highs are to hit 89 this weekend. 89! It’s great to be home with an actual spring to look forward to.
We drove to Butters in need of caffeine. As we sought a parking space, we noticed a large crowd milling about the joint. It was not a crime scene nor a protest underway. Besides traffic, I’d forgotten that with large populations, you find lengthy waiting lines for breakfast or anything else worthwhile.
We waited 45 minutes for a table and coffee. The noon hour found us diving into pancakes and omelets. The service was grand and our servers took the prize for most prominent eyelashes.
Stay tuned for part two of Wandering in the Desert, or, Worth the Pain.
Peggy Dover is a freelance writer/author/mockingbird enthusiast. Reach her at [email protected].
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