PDX Tues: my stupidest accomplishment
PDX Day 1: My stupidest accomplishment
PDX Day 2: Happy hour indeed
PDX Day 3: Portland so far
PDX Day 3.2: FUPD has assumed control
PDX Day 4: Laughs, libations, and lost chances
PDX Day 5: Cherubs, rainbows, and unicorns shitting Portland glitter cupcakes
PDX Day 6: Homebound
How often does a vacation include talking to a whole city on the radio, making friends with a rock star, doing stand up comedy, and riding through the streets naked on a bike? I just did that.
I just returned from an amazing trip to Portland, Oregon. This was the best vacation I’ve ever had. One of my best friends and former band mates, Zak Kindrachuk, hosts a radio show in Portland. The show is called “Beck and Burns” on 101.1 KXL. (Zak’s radio name is ‘Zak Burns’, his real last name is too complicated). His co-host was out of town, and he invited me to come up and co-host the radio show for a few nights. I’ve been wanting to visit for a while, and this invitation came at the right time. I have a few other friends that live up there, and I figured it would be great to catch up with them too. Upon further examination, I realized that the World Naked Bike Ride was taking place the same week that Zak invited me to come up. Portland is rumored to have the biggest naked bike ride in the nation, so….. I formulated the following battle plan for my trip:
- co-host the Beck & Burns show on KXL
- photograph at least one Portland based model
- ride butt ass naked in the Portland Naked Bike Ride
- become familiar with the greatness of Oregon beer
- visit old friends Jason Van Orden and Crystal Paredes
- go out on the town dressed up in heels & hosiery
- attempt to pick up as many beautiful Portland girls as possible
- do a stand up comedy set in at least one club
- visit Oregon wine country
- discover a cure for cancer
- solve the problem of cold fusion
As I’ve started writing about my trip, I’ve realized that I could either gloss over the details of each day and turn this into a a bland, but still super long post, or I could create posts about each day and go into some detail about what happened. I’ve decided on the later. Without any further adieu, let’s get on with the adventure:
Tues, 12 April: My stupidest accomplishment
My trip to Portland began with one of my stupidest accomplishments ever: I had a lot of client work to get done before I could leave, so I burned some midnight oil the night before I was to leave. As it turns out, I burned that oil ALL night, and didn’t sleep at all prior to beginning my drive. That’s right – I drove 11 hours to Portland on zero sleep. Stupid. I know. I put the bike rack on my car, stopped by my parent’s house in Logan to grab my bike, and set out for Oregon.
I could have rented a bike up there and not bothered with hauling a bike 800 miles each way, but… This is my bike. I saved up for it with lawn mowing money and bought it when I was 15. This bike has been through a LOT with me, and I definitely wanted it to be there for the Naked Bike Ride, even if cost me extra in reduced gas mileage (which it did). A Schwinn mountain bike acts like a parachute on the back of a drag racer. It cost me about 4 miles per gallon in fuel economy.
The drive was longer than I expected. If you ever need to disappear, Idaho is not a bad choice. Whole lotta nothing out there.
I also discovered that it is illegal to pump your own gas in Oregon. I started out tipping the gas station attendant after he would pump my gas, but soon learned that this was unnecessary.
Now, those of you that know me will know that for the most part, I don’t give a rat’s ass about landscape photography (as far as doing it myself). That may just be because I’m bored of the landscape I live in. WOW. I have no idea where I was in Oregon, but as the sun was setting, I was smitten. I took some of these photos while I was driving:
Yeah…. While. I. Was. Driving:
I had to pull over and rest / get my blood pumping a few times to avoid falling asleep at the wheel, which slowed my progress. After all detours and rest stops, my 13.5 hour journey came to an end and I pulled up to Zak’s place in Portland. Interesting fact: In the trip between my apartment and Zak’s house in Portland, you only have to make 4 turns. All of them right hand turns. Upon arriving, Zak, his girlfriend Jessica, and I, walked down the street to one of the awesome neighborhood bars near his place and proceeded to have some tasty adult beverages.
Relaxing as a grown adult in Oregon is vastly different than in Utah. You actually feel like a grown up. Nobody checks your ID (in OR, the bar tender may ask if you are 21, and your verbal response is sufficient. Alcohol commission officers are not allowed to lie in Oregon like they are in Utah, it has something to do with the legal concept of entrapment… blah blah blah… another story for another day). Last call is later, and is treated differently. Some bars wrap up at 2 am, some at 2:30am, it’s up to them. But most importantly, each neighborhood has it’s own bars, restaurants, shops, etc. It seems that every house in Portland has a plethora of great spots withing walking distance (Ummm… Utah, if you are so concerned about DUI’s and the safety of the roads, why not allow neighborhood taverns? I guarantee people would jump at the chance to walk to their fav watering hole instead of drive, like they are currently forced to.) This is a great example of the universal law: What you resist, persists. The stupid law makers in Utah are so afraid of problems with alcohol that they create super restrictive laws that create problems with alcohol. One thing I noticed while there is that it seemed unheard of to get in the car and drive downtown just for a bar or club, whereas in Utah, that is really the only option you have. It’s like the lawmakers here WANT to create circumstances that generate DUI’s. Portlanders just walk. Hey all of you RETARDED Utah politicians: neighborhood taverns are the answer. UGH! I digress.
We enter a beautiful little bar that reminds me of The Red Door in SLC…. except that this place is so much more effortless in it’s style and demeanor. This is the kind of place that The Red Door is trying so hard to be, but just can’t quite pull off. The atmosphere is relaxed yet elegant, and somehow unpretentious. We sit down with a few bottles of cider and catch up on things. It was very fucking good to see Zak again.
Next up – I discover the glory of happy hour, gain a new appreciation for the phone number 867 – 5309, and dine with an old friend.