I Heart Portland, Ore., Part I

I'm always worried Portland is going to realize how much I love her, and then start get nervous when I think about visiting.  But one of the reasons I love her so much is because she's way too cool to get nervous about something like that.  Instead of that really crazy girl who is so obsessed I blog about her, I'm just one of millions.  Although she will leave me with some great photos, because, you know, she loves her fans.

There is something magical about going to Portland.  So magical that before I even arrive I'm suddenly cooler. 

I had a couple of work things on Saturday, so I, unfortunately, couldn't make the Friday road trip (Frances, my life-partner of road trips was so upset she floated me the money to buy a plane ticket.. I KNOW - my friends are amazing).

While driving down the freeway to the airport, music blaring, windows down, I can hear Harleys headed my way, and fast.  As I brace myself for the thunderous drive by I suddenly realize one of the riders has slowed down to keep pace with me. 

Trying to be nonchalant, I turn to look out my window and am faced with an incredibly attractive 40-something in leathers.  He's grinning at me. I giggle, shake my head, and turn forward.  But that doesn't last long because he yells, "HEY HONEY!" I turn back to him and he finished, "SMILE!"  So I flash him a toothy grin, which he returns (with perfect white teeth), nods, and drives on. 

Very nice way to start the trip.  As usual, I'm hurried through security, they never x-ray me, or ask questions. Must be that silly blank look I get on my face in line, or perhaps they just totally trust Fluffy isn't filled with explosives.

Anyway, I board the plane ready for an hour and 10 minutes of reading "Water for Elephants".  I make it 3 pages (very enjoyable book, by the by, really, it's why I packed it and forgot clothes for Monday) and fall asleep.  Wake up 45 minutes later when we land.

No baggage so head towards exit, expecting to wait because (I love you) Frances isn't always timely.  Instead I get a text saying she and Suzi are awaiting me and she's right in front of me.  Except I can't see her.  So I stop, in front of the escalators, in front of about 15 people who have to dodge quickly to go around - my vacant smile came in handy here, too, since I didn't mean to be such an ass.  I still can't see Frances, so I do what anyone would do in my situation.  I give our emergency call, "CA-CAH, CA-CAH!" and look around awaiting the response.

I don't get one, just a lot of very startled expressions.  So I catch an escalator and try it again, "CA-CAH! CA-CAH!"  So far my bird impression is only getting people to hurry by - anyway, turns out they were in their car on the curb - so much for having an emergency call.

We stop at IKEA (which is why women were created to have multiple orgasms). And then head to Por Que No for dinner. 

Chels texts she is able to meet us, so we wait in line, flirting (but subtly, for once) with the hatted gentlemen in front of us.  A car drives by and I almost wave at the girl with my hair cut who looks exactly like me.  Suzi goes, "Oh! She looks just like you!"  Yep, yep she did.  But that wasn't Chelsea.  In fact, after Chels arrives we decide the girl who drove by looked more like me. 

Me & Chels

This completely confirms my long standing belief I'm a clone.  Every time I meet someone they go, "OH! You remind me of my best friend from New York {Seattle, Sydney, Toronto, etc}!" 

We order delicious food and drinks, find a seat and discuss, oh god.. all sorts of crazy things, like being sisters, and family and how awesome we are!

Suzi, Frances, and Chelsea

 And then we get ready to immerse ourselves into BREW FEST.

To Be Continued....