Friday Five: Portland

The first time I was in Portland, I went from the airport to a taxi, from the taxi to a hotel meeting room, from a hotel meeting room to a taxi, from the taxi to the airport, all in about 9 hours. Clearly not enough time to make up my mind about the place.

Now, for my second time, I was actually in town for about 24 hours. Much more time to assimilate the culture and develop a little crush on the place in the same way one might develop a crush on the sorta plain but sorta cute girl sitting across from you on the bus, who you may never see or think about again.

I did not however get to drink any beer.

In a town nicknamed Brew City

Maybe next time.

Here is my list of five things I did learn about the Brew City in 24 hours:

1. It's a good place to be a coffee lover.
There's more artistry and less snobbery than their cousins in Seattle and San Francisco.

2. It's a good place to like food.
Low priced gourmet concoctions with lumberjack proportions.

3. It's a good place to smoke.
Smokers every where, on every corner, butts scattered all over the streets. Try lighting up in my home town and you'll hear air raid sirens going off and woman and children scattering for shelter. I don't smoke any more, but if I did, I would have loved it.

4. It's a good place to be a bum.
Panhandlers everywhere. I ignored more panhandlers in the two minute walk from the bus station than in the entire four days of walking around Manhattan. They looked nicely groomed, were pretty well fed and didn't have that patchouli oil stink of their Bay Area brethren. 

5. It is a BAD place to be a young homosexual.
I'm not sure if its because the place isn't cosmopolitan enough to be swanky, not suburban enough to be underground, or if the tattoo artists are just drunk all the time on the beer I never got to drink, but when Pacific Northwest Grunge and Fabulous Gay Couture collide, it is mash up of unspeakable horror. 

Please feel free to discuss.

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