A Farewell to Portland

Just two short days before leaving Portland I stumbled upon the most beautiful rose garden. I'm put out about this because had I known such glory was but 2 miles from me all summer, I would have spent oodles of time there.

I'll miss Portland. I'll miss the good food and scenery and the sweet sweet friends I made there. I just may have to come back for a visit. Or two. So Tah Tah Portland. Until we meet again.

I left in the early afternoon and drove my carcass to the eastern border of Oregon. I spent the night in a terrifying hotel just a mile or two off of the highway. While I sugar-coated things for my folks at the time, I can now tell you that there's a good chance multiple people have been shot in this place. I had a handicapped room on the first floor and my door opened to the parking lot. For four hours a biker gang lounged on their bikes outside of my window. I could hear them talking and laughing while I sat in an upright ball on my king sized bed from the 70's, my small can of mace ready on the bedside table. 

My room was big and dark and because it was a handicapped room, all of the chairs were too short to wedge up under the doorknob. While on the topic of handicappedness, my room made me think like, say, a wheelchair bound person. What's so handy about it? Light switches were at hip level and all surfaces required a bend of my knees. I got angry when I realized that I couldn't reach the hairdryer from my invisible chair. "So inconsiderate." I thought as I rounded the corner to the bathroom. Then I saw IT. The deal breaker. The one item that suddenly made this tarnished, outdated room seem even more sticky. My room felt tainted now and I found myself flicking light-switches with the back side of my pinky and pulling back the shower curtain with the tips of my thumb and index finger. IT sat there. Silently festering.

It was a plastic white shower chair. An asymmetrical, spindly piece of furniture. I was not offended by it's purpose but all I could see was a hefty naked man sitting there. His clammy pale skin clinging to the seat and sudsy water running down fleshy bulges and oozing in-between his body ripples and the warm plastic. 

Look at this chair, delicately placed among such discreet modern plumbing fixtures. 

It changes your whole outlook.

I felt really bad about being put off by "the chair." But I know what happens on the chair. I couldn't get past it.
"The chair" aside, I made it through the night sans murders or even scares. I slept quite soundly actually. The next day I drove to Boise and spent the night with Georgia and Bill. I spent some time soaking in the lovely view from the patio and I also had a heavenly nap. They introduced me to the never-ending laughs provided by Molly B's Polka Party and fed me fun treats before bed. I didn't linger too long the next morning but they drove me back down their mountain and sent me off towards Salt Lake City.