✈️ Eugene Mileage Run: Pushing Limits to Return the Same Day

This page was primarily translated from the original Chinese version by GPT-5.2. Please refer to the original for definitive content.

---

Preface

I’d been planning this Eugene Mileage Run since May. The original plan was: some weekend in early August, depart from SJC, connect via PDX/SEA, and do a same-day round trip to EUG. When I booked it, I figured early August would be right in the middle of my summer internship—perfect time to take a few flights, reset my mood, and farm a bit of happiness. But when it actually got close to departure… I suddenly felt like the best kind of weekend happiness is staying glued to my bed, not waking up early to catch flights that make no sense. So I refunded the ticket the night before.

This time I went again for two reasons. First, flying SAN–EUG round trip was cheaper than from SJC, and Alaska ran an absolutely cracked Oregon-related promo in October: 30% off the entire order. Four segments for only 150 bucks—how could I not fly? Second, my boring school life genuinely needed some flights as seasoning (though, hilariously, the day before departure I finally managed to book badminton at school for the first time—and it seems like we might keep playing—so maybe I didn’t need airplanes that badly after all).

Itinerary

I chose Eugene mainly because it was the cheapest destination that could reliably give me four segments in one day, plus there was a chance to connect through “the prettiest airport in the US,” PDX. EUG itself is also a decent regional airport, and Eugene the city isn’t exactly the middle of nowhere. And if I happened to see something I liked at the airport, Oregon having no sales tax is also pretty nice. Here was the booked itinerary:

1. AS 576   SAN-PDX 10:56-13:49
2. AS 3042 PDX-EUG 14:40-15:27
3. AS 3042 EUG-PDX 16:07-16:59
4. AS 667   PDX-SAN 17:57-20:38

You can tell the connections were extremely tight. Aside from the EUG turnaround—same aircraft, so no need to worry about inbound delays—every other connection basically depended on Alaska running on time. I checked recent on-time performance before departure: Alaska had padded the schedule quite generously for these segments (the two mainline legs had about an hour of slack), so delays under one hour were almost always survivable. But with four legs, surprises happen. And because none of the airports involved are “top-tier important,” once delays hit, making it all work the same day becomes almost impossible. So the night before, I mentally prepared for not making it home and packed some essentials for an overnight.

The Trip

Delayed Right Out of the Gate

In the morning I fought my way awake, played on my phone in bed for a few minutes, and thought, “Alright, time to get up.” Then I opened the app and saw a 30-minute delay—so I pulled the blanket back over myself.

San Diego suddenly got very cold these days, and with not enough sleep, the chill felt even sharper. Fifteen minutes later I got up, made breakfast and packed a lunch to eat outside, confirmed the delay hadn’t gotten worse, and headed out. At that point I still had 2 hours 30 minutes until departure. The forecast said no rain, so I didn’t bring an umbrella. Of course, when I walked out there was still some drizzle—and by the time I reached downtown, it got heavier.

At the airport—maybe the first time I’ve ever had this much slack at SAN—I strolled into TSA, and sure enough, got pulled for a secondary check again because of my pants’ metal zipper/button. Then I glanced at my phone and saw a boarding time more than an hour later. Uh-oh.

I refreshed the Alaska app and confirmed the first leg was now delayed by a full hour, which meant I had zero chance of making the rest of the connections. Annoying. And for once, I genuinely didn’t know what to do—worst case, I’d have to abandon the whole trip. Alaska’s IT is nowhere near UA’s: when delays happen, you can’t do anything in the mobile app. You have to find an airport agent or contact online support.

My first choice was online support—not only because I’m too lazy to talk to people (and too lazy to explain why I had this cursed four-leg itinerary), but also because my UA experience taught me that online agents often have more authority than counter agents. After asking for my name and confirmation code, the agent’s very first sentence was: “Which flight do you want to change to?” That caught me totally off guard. I expected them to offer me a few possible solutions.

So I opened Google Flights, found a SEA-connection round trip to EUG that could still work today, confirmed none of those legs were delayed, and sent the agent the four flight numbers. After some painful thinking and effort (I assume), the agent still couldn’t resist asking if I was sure I wanted to spend only 40 minutes at the destination. I said yes. More painful thinking and effort later, they rebooked everything.

At that point, I could no longer check in myself in the app, so I had to get ground staff to help.

While chatting with online support, I’d already walked up to the Alaska counter. I stood up and tried asking the counter agent. The two passengers in front of me sounded like they were on the same flight—and also missing their EUG connection because of the delay. They’d also been rebooked via SEA. The counter agent told me to just go to the gate and ask the gate agents. So I walked away with two paper boarding passes.

SEA, Again

When we landed in Seattle, the entire plane’s phones started screaming. I thought the aircraft was about to explode. I checked my phone—it was an Amber Alert. I’m done. I can’t.

According to Hanglv Zongheng’s algorithm, today would be my 5th, 6th, 7th, and 8th time visiting Seattle-Tacoma Airport. Not much to say about SEA. I was just connecting airside, and it was a pretty smooth experience. The train’s end cars have huge glass windows, so the views are great.

This time, my departing gate at SEA was in the same batch as where I arrived last time. I say “batch” because in Concourse C, SEA has a whole cluster of regional stands with no jet bridges. It’s kind of like old-school train stations in China: you go through a series of “virtual gates” that all lead into the same corridor, then exit through different doors along that corridor, walk across the ramp, and climb the stairs to board. But this time was much better—last time I arrived here, Seattle was in a downpour and I had to walk tens of meters on the ramp getting soaked. This time it was sunny, and I got to see quite a few quirky Alaska regional liveries. Not sure if Alaska’s new 787 livery is already in service; otherwise I could try hunting it down at their SEA base.

Eugene, a Delightfully Weird Little Town

Eugene Airport is a cute little airport. It’s “small,” but it somehow has three full runways (none longer than 1600 meters). No jet bridges, of course—after landing, everyone just walks across the ramp into the terminal.

The first thing I did off the plane was find the gate agent and tell them that since I was doing a same-plane turn, I couldn’t get my boarding pass. After some operations, he told me I was checked in and I should be able to see my boarding pass in the app. I refreshed, saw the boarding pass button, thanked him, and left the gate.

But right as I was about to explore this tiny airport, I realized I still couldn’t get the QR code through that button. So I went back. Before I even reached the gate, I saw the agent telling another staff member, “I see him—he’s back,” and waving me over. I quickly said I still couldn’t see the boarding pass. The other staff member (who had just arrived) agreed and asked if I had been rebooked today. I said yes. He told me the person who rebooked me did something stupid and broke my ticket—but he could fix it, so I shouldn’t worry.

Then he asked whether it was airport staff or online support who rebooked me. I said it was online support. After fixing the ticket, he explained: the online agent is stupid (yes, his exact words were “the online agent is stupid”). He had no idea how they managed to break my ticket like that, but he’d already handled it.

I thanked him, and he gave me a truly cursed boarding pass: one barcode, two segments printed on it. I confirmed with him: one boarding pass for both legs? He said yes.

I left the gate again and walked to the other side of the airport, where there were a few restaurants and some souvenir shops. Oregon has no sales tax, sure—but a tiny Eugene fridge magnet for 9.99 USD? That’s expensive.

Even though it wasn’t even 6pm yet, most of the shops inside the airport were already preparing to close. Near the B gates there was a small lounge platform with a magical story machine: the Short Edition Short Story Dispenser. You press a button and it prints out a story on thermal paper. You can choose between local, world, and kids’ stories. The thermal paper comes out absurdly long. It had that classic small-town-airport romance vibe.

Thank God It’s a Hub

The flight back from Eugene was still parked at that same string of regional stands. My next leg home would board from Concourse N. SEA’s N concourse seems new or newly renovated—very pretty overall: lots of space, lots of light. This was my first time visiting SEA’s N terminal.

There weren’t many fast-food options in N; near the train there was a Wendy’s, so… Wendy’s it is. The app said my flight was delayed, so I sat near the gate and ate slowly. After a while, an announcement explained the reason: apparently there was a lavatory issue. That meant I definitely wouldn’t catch the last light rail train, and I’d have to Uber home—another $30 gone.

Around then, I noticed I’d earned Atmos Gold. Naturally, my upgrade list position didn’t change at all—I was still basically dead last. After several delay announcements, they finally said they were swapping to a different aircraft. Hub power, thank you. Funny enough, the morning flight to PDX also swapped aircraft because of an earlier issue. Hubs really are great.

Once the new gate was announced (back to Concourse C), everyone rushed off to ride the train. After arriving at C, they announced another delay—because swapping aircraft meant the crew hadn’t arrived yet. Whatever. It couldn’t get worse.

On the final flight home, it looked like economy didn’t even get beverage service. Probably because the aircraft swap happened last-minute and catering didn’t make it onboard. It’s unlikely they served while I was asleep, because I looked around and nobody seemed to have gotten a drink or snacks either.

The plane finally landed at 23:53 and reached the jet bridge at 23:57. I actually pulled it off—I really did fly home the same day.

Summary

The segments I actually flew on this mileage run (times are scheduled times):

1. AS 685   SAN-SEA 11:37-14:50
2. AS 3297 SEA-EUG 15:53-17:05
3. AS 3297 EUG-SEA 17:45-19:00
4. AS 335   SEA-SAN 20:07-22:59

Overall, the experience was pretty good. SEA flights are notoriously hard to clear upgrades on, and SAN is a decent hub too, so I didn’t get upgraded to First (Premium doesn’t really matter—I even forgot whether I cleared Premium or not).

P.S. After this mileage run, I got Alaska Atmos Gold. The funny part is: Alaska credited the entire day’s mileage at the Gold bonus rate—even though, technically, I wasn’t Gold during the first three segments. But since you only earn meaningful mileage on Alaska metal if you buy Main Cabin or higher, and Cathay has been withholding normally priced economy tickets from Alaska for ages, this Gold status probably has basically zero chance of requalification. That said, if you only fly within North America, Gold and Silver aren’t that different anyway.

---

Trip Details

This article is part of the Journeys series.

Trip Number: C008

Trip Dates: 2024-11-18, Pacific Time

Modes of Transport: Airplane