Last night I met Buster "Buster" Smarr in Portland for a night of wild drinking and lascivious happenings. By some miracle we managed to synch up our meeting times almost perfectly. I would've been *perfectly* on time but my right forefinger spent most of the drive screwing itself into my nose, thus slaking my furious driving tendencies and taste for boogers.
Having been downtown all of one times, I managed to not only find it but give Capt. Smarr a thorough tour in a never-ending quest to find parking. It was fortunate that we managed to avoid the gay district as Buster would have been a sure hit with his black leather jacket and gregarious ways. My appearance did nothing to dispell the image of a friendly Virginia Tech "dom" walking his skinny hippie boyfriend down the street. We wandered aimlessly until finding a suitable bar/eatery for discreet ass-grabbing and catching-up.
Apparently Portland is a hotbed of closet Virginia Tech fandom. Not once, but
twice did Buster receive public recognition for wearing his alma mater. The second instance included, no joke, an ovation and rousing cheer from a table of patrons which caught the attention of the entire bar. No one else wearing the exact same attire would've receive the same response. I dropped Teh Smarr off at the airport around 1 a.m. where he planned to sleep in the terminal until his 7 a.m. flight. Ouch. I headed back to Eugene for some hot faceplanting action. In all it was a short but good night.
For those of you thinking I don't post enough to my blog, whet your appetite on these future hot hot hot topics: Iraq, American democracy, liberals, Germany's economy, tai chi, feminism, a description of Oregon, The Evil Empire of Russia, and the regular fare of road trips and drinking. Fun fact: today marks the six-month anniversary of my arrival in Eugene.
