Ed and I have been together for 12 years; married for seven. After all that time, he knows that when I get cabin fever for some excitement – something that happens if I go more than one weekend without Adventure – it would behoove both of us to do Something Fun, and damn quickly before I literally have a tantrum. To this end, we (okay, I, but he wisely went along with it) decided to spend our anniversary weekend having an Adventure: we drove down to Portland, Oregon.
We stayed at the Inn @ Northrup Station, which is apparently in a super trendy neighbourhood. The hotel was super perfect – right on the street car line, close to a million things, quiet, funky, awesome. I would absolutely recommend that you stay there if you get a chance. There were giant jars of saltwater taffy everywhere!
Our trip was great. We arrived on Friday afternoon, and checked into our hotel just before 5pm. We chilled out for a bit, then went out to do a little shopping – relaxing trip or not, I was in a tax-free state and I had Grand Plans. I bought some Doc Marten boots and some sassy clothes, then we headed back to the hotel for some Adult Swim and sleep.
It rained all Saturday morning, so we hung out and waited for the rain to go away. It lifted at noon, so we hopped the streetcar and wandered around Portland. We did a ton of awesome stuff on Saturday – lunch at a haunted pizza parlor, video games, Powell’s, Voodoo Donuts, Stumptown Coffee, the Saturday Market – our feet hurt. We sat to rest our feet at the waterfront, and were simultaneously hit with a bizarre sense of déjà vu – we’d been here before. It wasn’t our first trip to Portland, but we’d never been down to the waterfront before – so why did we recognize our surroundings?
Ed had a memory of doing jumps through the park and I remembered parking my car in the hideout to save the game, and we figured it out – Grand Theft Auto 3. The part of town we were in was accurately represented in Liberty City to the point where we recognized where we were based on a game neither of us had touched in 6 years. Hah!
That evening we had dinner at Casa del Matador around the corner from the hotel. The food was awesome – I had a pomegranate margarita – but it was admittedly a little hard to enjoy because of the drunken, aging party girl sitting next to us. She and her party were there when we arrived and still drinking when we left, and each time she would sober up a little it got quieter – then someone would order shots, and her volume and obnoxiousness would go through the roof again. There’s nothing sadder than an aging bar star, and she made me really glad I’ve never been into that scene.
We awoke fairly early on Sunday and got ready to check out. I was sad, because I’d love to spend some quality time in Portland (with my scooter) – but we’ll be back. Not knowing what to do but knowing I should stay out of Powell’s Books for the sake of my ability to pay rent this month, we decided to take the streetcar for the entire route and see the city that way. It was a nice ride until the hobo got on – he was smelly – and we got to see a lot of the city and the university. After the streetcar trip, we got back into the Mazdabator and hit the road after a couple of stops at Trader Joe’s for trail mix and Target for all the socks in the world.
Our ride home was uneventful save for two incidents. We stopped for lunch in the fake Vancouver, and went to Burgerville because it is crazy delicious. After we ate lunch I treated myself to a blackberry sundae, because their ice cream is amazing. The overly attentive lobby boy made the sundae for me, but there was an .. incident.
When applying the whipped cream to the sundae, the nozzle malfunctioned. Apparently when this happens, it is not advisable to apply more pressure to it in the hopes that something comes out – because when something DOES come out, it’ll explode with great force and spray cream everywhere.
And I mean everywhere.
I received a face full of cream from a strange man. I was too surprised to do much more than laugh, but I was covered in it – the whipped cream shot out with amazing force and covered the wall, the cooler, the ceiling, the guy, and me. All the employees rushed to my aid because I was laughing too hard to do anything for myself – I had a gaggle of people surrounding me trying to get whipped cream out of my hair and off my clothes. It was hilarious and sticky, and you could see everyone struggling mightily to keep the innuendos under check. The sundae guy was relieved that I found it so funny, and he thanked me multiple times for being such a good sport – what else would I have done; it was clearly an accident and also it was hysterical. I am pretty sure these things only happen to me – I am a magnet for creamy surprises.
The drive to the border was boring, but when we got to the truck crossing there were a million cars trying to get into Canada. I convinced Ed it was a good idea to go to the Duty Free store, where I stocked up on clearance Clinique and bought myself some expensive perfume as a reward for bypassing over an hour of traffic. We crossed the border without incident, and made it home by 8:30 last night.
Today is our actual anniversary, and we have the day off. We’re going to buy ourselves a Playstation 3 with the contents of the Puggy Bank (Katamari Forever comes out tomorrow !!), be shot by Miranda and Reilly, and maybe go out for dinner later. All good things that require me to wear pants, so I should really get going already.
Happy anniversary, Ed! You are a Good Egg.