We woke up at 7 a.m. and started putting Jordan's bike into its bike box. We'd managed to get most of AnnMarie's bike into her box by about 3 a.m. the night before -- well, except for one of the wheels. AM's spatial relations abilities came in incredibly handy. She figured out how to fit a 4-sq. ft. wheel into a 4.003-sq. ft. space. But Jordan was a bit nervous about the fit so we decided to box her two wheels separately.

At 9 a.m., a friendly guy let us into the shipping store on Smith Street early and agreed to build a custom box for AM's two wheels. By 10:30 a.m., our custom-made box-o'-wheels was ready to go!

The minivan that picked us up had a cargo hold the size of the Millenium Falcon's. We easily fit two bike boxes, a huge bag containing our panniers, our custom wheel box, and two bicyclists with room for a half-dozen wookies. We made it to LaGuardia Airport in record time.

At the airport, we met two of the most overly helpful US Airways representatives (that doesn't include the dude who charged us $80 each to put our bikes on the plane). Small moment of panic when said dude asked "You're going to Portland? Wait—let me make sure the plane is big enough for those bikes." Luckily, it was.

Once we got through security (which for the driver's license-less Jordan involved a deep cavity search), we headed straight for the food court, where Jordan had a c&c dog and a smoothie made with mango "drink."

Fast forward to the Portland, Maine airport. The weather was overcast and misty, but that didn't stop us. We retrieved our bikes from behind the locked "oversize baggage" doors and set to work unpacking and rebuilding the bikes. AM expertly cut the bike boxes into handy 4x4-inch squares for disposal in a nearby trash can. Luckily for her, her work was admired by two cabbies who each took two large pieces of cardboard to line the bottoms of their trunks. Yay — less box cutting for AM! The bikes came together with only three imperfections:

  1. AM's front wheel had undergone an airborne trauma, and was out of true.
  2. AM's front brakes were a little lopsided.
  3. Jordan could only pump up the tubes to 80% capacity with his scrawny arms and AM's wonky pump.

But that didn't stop us — we biked to the Inn at St. John in downtown Portland in a light rain. At the inn, we were helped by Sean and Jeff, the two friendliest MapQuest-loving guys in the lower 48 states. They ruminated endlessly about the best way to bike out of town the next morning.

Our room was on the top floor, past a wallpaper/carpet combo that would make Oscar Wilde turn in his grave. After that climb up the stairs, we considered ourselves lucky that the bikes stayed in the basement.

Our room was lovely, except for the "fake person" Jordan noticed sitting on the roof of the building next door. He was sitting in the rain in a lawn chair holding a massive umbrella and a laptop, and he was wearing pajamas. Jordan insisted this person was "fake" because he literally was not moving a muscle. It was rather amazing. Turns out Jordan was wrong, though, as he eventually did move. It was a real, though quite obviously somewhat wacky "real" person.

On our way out to dinner, we randomly bumped into Jordan's friend Pete from Brooklyn. He told us about a bluegrass festival taking place that weekend near Brunswick. We had dinner at Local 188 (pork, red snapper, and white sangria) and then headed back to the hotel for some rest before our first biking day.