Rain and Roses

I’m a big fan of Portland—huge, in fact. I spent quite a bit of time there with an ex-boyfriend whose family lived near, however, it wasn’t until last year around this same time that I experienced Portland as an of-age American citizen. I fell in love with the City of Roses and enjoyed the change from the usual Seattle night life. So, when I had an opportunity to travel down this weekend with some college friends for a surprise party, I welcomed the opportunity to spend a night in Seattle’s sister city.

Kelly, Amanda, Adam and I left Seattle on Saturday for the Oregon border. Every road trip is in need for some car snacks, or “trinkets” as Adam called them. I originally stopped into the 76 Station to purchase an US Weekly for the road, but walked out with Ranch CornNuts, a Big Hunk and a Rice Krispy treat. I could already tell it was going to be a junk-filled splurge weekend. It’s so boring to diet when on vacation, no matter how mini. A vacation from the norm is a vacation from routine, so says I. And boy did I ever take advantage of it.

After three and one-half hours of driving in the torrential downpour and grey skies while playing “Would You Rather…”, the four of us arrived at our hotel—the Thriftlodge on Burnside Street. Our hotel was a real gem. Our room was tiny and generally smelled like a Porta-Potty, and we had neighbors from Texas who were grilling on their BBQ outside their room in the rain. Our taxi cab driver later in the evening actually said, “There’s a lot of crack smoked there.” But, really, one night of drunken passing out does not require a fancy, over-priced hotel room. So, in the right character, we cracked a couple Bud Lights and started drinking before dinner with our friends in the next hotel room—Brett, Angie and six-or-so others.

The 12 of us trekked across the street to the Doug Fir—a super swanky, progressive bar and music venue that has been voted one of the Top 10 Best Rock Clubs in America by Playboy.com. I loved it. Twisting the common Northwest outdoor theme, Doug Fir is a log cabin with natural detail, combined with funky 50s-insprired lighting, decoration and glasswork. The restaurant side housed a series of late-night diner tables. When I traveled to the back of the restaurant, I passed two bars and a series of lounging rooms with low tables and chairs, until I reached the gold-flecked, completely glass bathrooms. I’m a sucker for aesthetic, and the Doug Fir was gorgeous.

After being seated for dinner, Amanda and I continued our search for the perfect chocolate martini, and also enjoyed a Blackberry Cosmo—a cosmo with blackberry puree instead of cranberry juice, topped off with a few sprigs of mint. The food was priced decent, and I snuck more than one bite of Scott’s amazing macaroni and cheese. By the time we left dinner, I was slightly buzzed and ready to crack into my six-pack of Blue Moon beer. Our group taxi-cabbed over to our friend’s house for the surprise party, which was to commence at 11 p.m.

I blitzed through five of my beers and more than a couple dips of tortilla chips and guacamole/bean dip at the surprise party before Amanda, Adam and I decided to continue our party to the bars in downtown Portland. The three of us weren’t extremely close with the birthday boy and wanted to check out Portland’s nightlife since we had traveled all the way for one night. We called a cab and requested for the driver to drop us off where we could walk to a bunch of fun bars. After bar hopping to a few different places, we ended up at a place called Bar XV. Amanda and I took full advantage of the mini dance floor in the back, where I shook it like a saltshaker for an hour to Indian-inspired dance music. I fully felt like I was in belly dancing class.

We wrapped up our night with a sidewalk serenade to Journey (a bar was playing it on outside speakers), 3 a.m. Taco Bell, and a drunk dial to Sarah. The next morning, our hang over was cured by a couple bottles of Volvic, “filtered through layers of ancient volcanic rock,” thanks to Adam’s $36, 7-Eleven purchase from Friday night, and a group breakfast at a restaurant called Madison. Of course, forgetting that South Beach exists at all by this point, I devoured a Monte Cristo smothered in syrup and more trinkets on the way home—a bag of Winchell’s mini donuts that were better than sex. Or at least equivalent to sex in a bag.

Once again, Portland proved to be a good time. I’m looking forward to the next time I get to take the City of Roses by storm, rain or shine…

Currently Feeling: Major cravings after my weekend sugar and carb binge.
Currently Anticipating: Fajitas and ANTM with the ladies on Wednesday.
Currently Reading: The Twentieth Wife, my latest Amazon.com purchase.