Weekend Number 15: J'adore Portland parti deux

(Reader: if you're starting here, please read "J'adore Portland" first. Thanks.)

Brother's think their they greatest thing since sliced hops. We did a couple beer samples and the went to the actual brewery. We got to see these HUGE vats of beer (or soon-to-be-beer) and watch it churn and spray and purify and Saturday I planned two activities ahead of time that were to be surprises for John: the first was a tour of the Widmer Brothers Brewery. We went to industrial North East Portland and arrived at the all-brick, super cute brewery. The hostess escorts us to the boardroom where we will soon meet with our tour guide. Other people start to filter in and soon after the tour guide arrives and we begin. They started with a movie on how beer is made and how it furments and all that. It was super, super cool. We received a Widmer Brother's glass and a bottle opener at the end of the tour and headed off to our next destination.

We arrived now in Old Town Portland where we took a tour of the "Portland Underground." Old Town Portland was very similar to San Diego's historic Stingaree district. It was at one time brothels, casino parlors, opium dens, etc. Portland, being a "port" town and had, what many other port towns called, "shanghaiing." What would happen is when some one was in this part of town and strolling down the streets intoxicated, inebriated or otherwise, they would be knocked-out, kidnapped and then drug down to the harbor and sold to a ship captain as a slave. This started around the 1850's and quickly increased in severity over the years. There was a network of tunnels that were constructed under buildings that made it easier to trap, hide and transport victims. The slavers started buying off the police force, politicians and barkeeps to just turn the other way. In the height of the Shanghaiing, it was 3,000 men a year that would be kidnapped and it lasted till 1941, World War II. The tour actually took us underground into the catacomb tunnels, and we saw some of the artifacts and actual holding cells of these people. It was very interesting to hear about the historic part of Portland, but I could have DEFINITELY done without all the campfire-ghost story-bull hockey. "If you squint your eyes, some people have said they've seen the whistler who whistled until they died....oooohh booga booga booga." Bitch please.

Okay so then what, Oh! So we get done with the Old Town tour and go to Matt's get our belongings and go to a pre-party. A pre-party to what you might ask? The red dress party!! Holla! Okay, so the red dress party is just a giant warehouse party with a bunch of men (yes, gay) in dresses. Not all are drag queens, but the ones who are are probably my old roommates. Oh yeah... okay so we go to Starbuck's house (that's his nickname, is birth name is Dave). Anyway, we get there, have a beer, muster up the balls (or not-balls) to put on a glitzy, glamorous red dress. John's was this full-length, beaded halter top gown and mine was this 80's Tiffany-ish sweater dress. It was hideous. Okay so started to bitch about how it was a little itchy and some guy there was like, "Oh, I brought this other dress that I ended up not wearing but you should totally try it." I tried it on, and what a dream come true. It is totally like a fairytale figure skater dress. It was SOO gay! And if I spun in a circle, my underwear would show, so I was happy. Okay, so we drink, great, and head off the red dress party (except John had a stomach ache and didn't end up going).

The red dress party was like, a line to get in another line, to get in ANOTHER line... uuggg. There was a line to get in the door (outdoors thanks), there was a line to get a cocktail (again, outdoors) and ANOTHER line to go the bathroom (yup...outdoors). This is not San Diego either, this is Portland, Oregon, on the river, freezing, drizzling cold. But so fun. Super fun. so we drink, eat, giggle, twirl, giggle more and go down to Silverado. For are you non-Portlanders, it's this very classy establishment, almost members-only, that the very upper-crust of society patrons. It's a total divy gay strip bar. So we changed out of our red dresses on the streets of downtown Portland (did I mention how classy I am?) and go to Silverado, meet up with friends, drink, twirl, tip, they twirl, tip again, drink and leave. It was fun.

Sunday morning Kurtis (some may know him as Asshole) came home from his work trip. Work flew him to Twinkistan or something and he was like a big in shit. Anyway, Mattgraves picked him up from the airport then we all went out to brunch--which was the most ridiculous meal I've ever had. We walk in and the hostess is like, "Okay yeah, table for four? Okay right this way (read it in a little Asian-lady-Miss-Swan voice)." We sit down, order some food and they are pestering us like, "You can't eat all that? You come wash dishes when you're finished..." and like, rubbing our heads and just being kooky. I can't even explain it. The tip of the iceberg was when I was watching the little girl that was staring into the wall, nose-to-wallpaper, like it was television screen, and I whip around and see this Asian lady cutting Mattgraves' pancake with HIS fork and putting it in HIS mouth. I checked out for the rest of the meal. I was in Kookykook Kooksville. So weird. Okay, so we get to the airport, get on our plane, talk about the amazing time we shared and about how random of a blog the whole weekend is going to make. So there you go.

Portland's fucking weird.