Trip to Portland, Oregon and reviews of restaurants and dispensaries

Did you know you can get across the entire country in a single day?  It is a miracle, nothing less, for as this story might show, it is far more than the 2,268 miles that you are traveling.  

Here’s what happened:

September or August of this year

One day, my friend and roommate, Bridie, and I were talking in our wonderful home in the scenic Shenandoah Valley of Virginia.  Both of us were in a restless mood and out of the blue Bridie says, “when did you say that women’s retreat was?”  I jumped out of my seat wildly, “you wanna go?”  The retreat she spoke of I had been to twice before when I had lived in Oregon.  It was a real life-changer for me, and I knew that it would be for Bridie at this point in her life as well.  She had never even been to the West Coast!  The tickets were cheap - so cheap that we bought them.  The month of anticipation was exciting but the week of the trip was even better. 

The lovely photographs in this blog were taken by Bridie and graciously shared with me.  Except for the ones of cannabis plants.  Someone else took those.

Tuesday

We took Frontier Airlines.  Oh Frontier Airlines.  We paid to go to Portland and that’s exactly what we got.  We did not check the metaphorical box beside “reasonable room to sleep on the plane” nor apparently, “complementary water.”  Oh well. 

Frontier, we found out that morning, charges $38 for carry-on bags.  We each had one and were dismayed at the unexpected fee.  My attorney advised us to see how much they charged for checked bags.  $38 as well.  Then, he had the brilliant idea to take both of our carry-ons and place them into a huge suitcase.  So I lugged out my big green luggage and we saved half the price.  That’s what I pay him for.

                                           

One cool thing about Frontier though is they go all out on pictures of cute animals on the wings of their planes.  This time, on our first of four flights, we had a dolphin.  And by 11 PM mountain time we were in Denver, Colorado.

Both Bridie and I have a good friend in Colorado and both of those friends were good enough to pick us up at the airport, for our next flight wasn’t until noon on Wednesday.  Emily, Bridie’s friend from childhood, lives on the outskirts of Denver and kindly let us stay the night on her couches.  My friend, Daniel, just moved out to Eagle, CO, this summer and he came up to see us and crash at Emily’s too.  Another wonderful benefit of flying Frontier: any cushioned chair, couch, or rock feels unbelievably comfortable in comparison to the plane seats.  We all chatted about life and then fell asleep early for we knew the next day would be a big one.

Wednesday

We got to the airport early and I grabbed a postcard with a buffalo on it for my students.  We sat down for breakfast at Mesa Verde Bar and Grill (https://www.flydenver.com/enjoy_relax/dine/mesa-verde).  The food was bomb – southwest breakfast and coffee, and the waiter was chatty and happy.  I spilled my water and the woman in the next booth rushed over with a pile of napkins.  Nice folks in Denver.

The plane to Portland had a mama and baby wolf on the wing.  In profile, the mama, named Luna, looked just like Lola, Bridie’s husky, who saw us off at the airport and who was missed all week.

Touch down through the clouds!  We texted our Airbnb host to let him know we were on our way.  It was about 2 PM. 

We walked out of the airport, our eyes adjusting.  Oh sweet freedom.  Bridie could feel it in the air and you know I could too.  We were in Oregon, where "she flies with her own wings."

                                          

                                          

To save money and to help Bridie have a full Portland experience in a single week, we had opted to take public transit during our adventure.  We hopped the Max train to Gateway.  

                                                 

The busses were not coming as often as I had hoped and we were a little tired and annoyed.  Finally we boarded one and took it farther into town.  Remember the big green suitcase we put both of our bags in?  It’s got a busted wheel.  So it has to be rolled at a very specific angle.  We were walking up and down the sidewalks of 82^nd to find the right bus and that suitcase was a real pain in the arse.  On the way, though, low and behold, we passed our first open to the public cannabis dispensary.  Not just our first in Portland.  Our first ever!  It was called Doctor’s Orders (https://www.leafly.com/dispensary-info/doctor-s-orders-4604) and the sign had a cartoon doctor with a swollen green thumb.  I was psyched, but we still had that damn luggage.  So I sent Bridie in to check out the scene and I waited like a goof in the parking lot on the busy street.  Luckily, in Portland, the only way to look like a goof is to not look like a goof, so it wasn’t too big of a deal.  Bridie exited with stories of friendly budtenders and a gram each of an indica and a sativa strain as well as a little one-hitter.  As smoking cannabis is against the law in Virginia, it was an exciting and fun part of our trip to experience the joys of the healing herb.  And after a few puffs sitting on a beautiful mossy bench, pushing that dang suitcase was a whole lot more interesting.

                                                     

Our Airbnb was in a lovely neighborhood near where Sandy, Freemont, and 73^rd cross.  Our host was a fishing aficionado and his house was cute, clean, and full of homages to nature.  That’s a big part of the culture out there - the respect of the natural world.   Perhaps one day, everywhere.   

                                           

We showered and got dressed.  One of the places I knew that I wanted to show Bridie was McMenamins Edgefield (https://www.mcmenamins.com/edgefield).  I think it’s just romantic and beautiful there, east of town on the estate of a hotel, winery, brewery, restaurants, gardens, pubs and a spa.  And it would ease her into the West; nothing too scary or different there.  We Uber-ed out and our driver provided our first conversation with a local.  He showed us his dope pickle bowl.  Bridie offered him a hit out of her one-hitter and he acted like he was too good for our “Virginia weed” which we had just bought there in Oregon.  It was a bit pretentious but I saw it coming.  Those folks are truly weed snobs.  However, I noticed the cadences of speech and realized I would have to have a tough talk with Bridie about the differences in speech patterns on the East and West Coast.  That would not be fun.  The first day/night of a trip with me is almost never fun, but that way it keeps getting better, right? 

So we ate at Edgefield’s main restaurant, The Power Station Pub (https://www.mcmenamins.com/edgefield/power-station-pub).  We ordered Irish coffee, hoping to get a little energy, and a veggie sub and veggie burger to split and share.  The ketchup on the table was organic but this place was not impressing as much as I’d hoped.  Even after roaming the well-cared for gardens and grounds, Bridie said it was just like country clubs back East, except, she said, that back East that’s privilege, while here it was open to everyone.  I decided to bring up the cultural differences in speaking and since I couldn’t think of a nice way to phrase what I felt I had to say, I just out and said it:  “In the Uber, I noticed you were talking passionately at times.  And I just have to let you know that that’s not how people out here talk.”  This is how I rub some people the wrong way.  Half the time, I don’t even know if I’d like me.

We waited forever for the bus in pretty much silence.  I was still overjoyed to be in Portland, but it was awkward as fuck the rest of that night.

Bridie let me take her out to the home of my soul friend Wayne that evening.  Hadn’t been able to contact him prior to arriving so he was so surprised!!!  So great to see my friend.

Then we took the Max and bus back and crashed, dead asleep.

Thursday

When I woke up the next morning, I had a text message waiting on me.  Thank the stars, some of my friends had heard I was in town (even though, with no car and a new friend in tow I didn’t know if we would be able to see all of the people who are so important to me.)  But they got ahold of us, gave us a ride from the house to King’s Omelets, (http://places.singleplatform.com/kings-omelets-restaurant/menu) where we had a wonderful breakfast with some of the great people of Peace Church of the Brethren (the only church of which I consider myself a part).  I got to see everybody!  Sherry, Laura, Lou, Peggy, Sharon, Ed and even Kerby Lauderdale.  Hugs all around.  What a blessing.  When I had told Bridie we were going to breakfast with my friends, she assumed they were our age-ish and wore her bitchin’ THC t-shirt.  Seeing that they were all well over 60, she kept her jacket on during breakfast.  I ordered a Belgian waffle with strawberries and whipped cream and listened as Ed told me how the Ft. Wayne Church has solar panels now and how Miss Pennsylvania is apparently Brethren.  Huh.  The food was tasty, the service was great.  Everyone knew everyone there in Kings.  What a beautiful fellowship meal.

Kerby kindly volunteered to drop us off wherever we wanted to go.  I chose Hawthorne Street to show Bridie the real hip side of Portland, the thrifting and costume area.  Kerby said he wanted to show us a new documentary about him at his new place and I said we might call him later.

We looked around in the wild thrift shops that were all decked out for Halloween.  Anything you would need for a costume was there.  And more, trust me. 

                                     

Walking around, we saw a young man with green hair and a ‘hungry’ sign.  Bridie went into a shop and ordered two eggrolls to go, then she gave them to the guy and started chatting.  I gave them some space.  She asked what was going on with him and he told her how he was born in Alaska and has now been to every state but Hawaii and how he and his friends are planning on jumping on a cargo ship to get to the Hawaiian Islands.  Good luck, dude.

Looked in the Hawthorne Goodwill and it was sna-zee!  Bridie almost bought a washboard.  Then we entered my first dispensary ever – Brothers (check out their menu at:  https://brothers-cannabis.com/pages/leafly-menu), apparently the oldest dispensary in town.  I decided to get two pre-rolleds (j’s), one of sour banana sherbet and one of head cheese.  The women there were so cool and gave us suggestions on where to get a vegan lunch.  My first budtenders.  Aww.

Then, before a long walk to our chosen lunch spot, we stopped in Rachel’s Ginger Beer for a ginger beer.  No me gusta.  Carbonated sugar water is what it tasted like.  I don’t think I even drank it all.

During this afternoon, probably earlier, while I was in the john, Bridie had a powerful interaction with a young lady wrapped in a brown blanket.  You’ll have to ask her about it, but after that, the tension between us was gone.  The magic of Portland is impossible to ignore.

                                         

We walked awhile to Babydolls Pizza (http://www.babydollpizza.com/) where the bud-ladies had sent us for a vegan slice.  The pizza was delish!  “I never thought I’d be able to do this.  Buy a pre-made slice at a place like this.  But here I am, eating vegan pizza,” and on a Mrs. Pacman game table to boot.  I was delighted too.  My square slice was so thick, delicious, and spicy with peppers and onions.  There was a stack of magazines and I picked up the Oregon Cannabis Guide.  Read a review of the Netflix show “Disjointed,” which I had watched.  Great critique and from it we learned that the word “marijuana” is not really used anymore because of its usage history; professionals these days call bud cannabis or flower.

                                       

We walked across the street to Canteen (http://www.canteenpdx.com/).  It was an all-vegan restaurant and the music playing was some kind of chant-metal.  The place literally smelled like hay, and honestly, I think it was supposed to.  Bridie got a slice of cheesecake and then second-guessed the whole thing.  “Wait, is this vegan?”  “Everything here is vegan,” said the employee and Bridie high-fived him.

                                       

Then we took the Max to my friend’s house who had promised to show us a real life cannabis grow-room.  That was a delight to the senses!  What a world!

 I called Kerby to ask if he still wanted to show us that documentary.  He said come on over so we headed down near Lloyd Center to his swanky retirement home.  I knew it would be classy, but dang!  He has a balcony overlooking the arbor-ed city and an elegant studio.  Kerby was the pastor of Peace Church when I attended and he has since retired.  The documentary was one of a six-part series called “Conversations with Older Gay Men.”  Wow.  It was a perfectly edited telling of Kerby’s incredible life, and I think Bridie was really moved.  Anyone who watches it will be.

He was an angel and drove us back to the Airbnb house in the pouring rain.  We crashed hard again.

Friday

On Friday, we were getting picked up for our four hour drive to the retreat.  But before that, we treated ourselves to yet another delicious meal on the town.  

                                        

We went to Mekha (https://www.mekharestaurants.com/), a Vietnamese spot down the street from where we were staying.  I got a Thai tea and it was so smooth and refreshing, cold chai and milk.  On the table was a condiment station decked out with containers of soy sauce, fish sauce, crushed garlic, chilies, hot sauce, red thick sauce, siracha, teriyaki, little bowls, big flat spoons, and chopsticks.  I ordered the Bun Xao Chay Vermicelli served with tofu.  The pop of fresh mint was mmmm and if that meal wasn’t exactly what I wanted, I don’t know what would be!  God, it was perfect.  And it’s pronounced phuh, not pho.  Becoming cultured one dish at a time, together.

While waiting by our bags for my buddy, Bobbi, to pick us up, I saw a collection of Walt Whitman poems.  The one that stuck out to me was called “Song of the Redwood Tree.”  As it prepares to fall, the tree calls out ‘farewell my brethren, farewell O Earth and Sky, farewell ye neighboring waters, my time has ended, my term has come.’ 

Bobbi pulled up in her truck.  We loaded our small bags and hit the highway.  It was a pleasant drive through the tall trees to Southern Oregon.  We talked about teaching and business and life.

Before we knew it, we were there.  Camp Myrtlewood, that is, for the Pacific Northwest District Church of the Brethren’s yearly Women’s Retreat.   

                                      

My body became peaceful as we walked in.  I was safe here.  The ladies were in the middle of dinner.  My friend, Sol, who works at camp was there and I was so happy to see him.  It had been years!  The whole weekend, the camp staff cooked Bridie vegan meals and she filled up on them in the same way I knew she was filling up on all of the trip, taking it in, as much as she could.

We had a single session as a large group that evening.  We were warmly welcomed and we went around the room introducing ourselves, talking about how our body felt, how our mind felt, and what would bring us comfort.  Looking back I should have said a book deal and a handsome husband would bring me comfort because I think the magic was strong and I think everyone got precisely what they asked for.  It was a wonderful group and a blessing to share the weekend with each person there.  Women in all stages of life, full of wisdom and guilt about taking a weekend for themselves sat in a circle pushing and pulling love around.

Bridie fell asleep on her bunkbed but I stayed up talking to Kat outside.  We had an interesting talk and it was a privilege to spend time with such a mature young woman.  I froze to death in my bunkbed but I was not concerned about lack of sleep for I was where I wanted to be.

Saturday

Saturday morning I woke up with the lyrics, ‘the sailors say Brandy, you’re a fine girl.  What a good wife you would be’ in my head.  I would not understand the significance of that until the next day.

I spent a lot of time in the woods on Saturday, but not too much.  I treated that special forest how I treat libraries and book stores: knowing that once sucked in to something so comforting for me, breaking away is so painful that it is best to avoid too much contact initially.  But I hiked up a few times to the adobe house by the river. 

                                      

Had a few good talks with Hannah, one of the new Brethren Volunteer Service workers from my town here in Virginia.  Then I planned the poetry session I was leading that night.  Doug Eller and John Jones stopped by and we got to talk a bit.  It was good to see them both healthy and happy.  I learned that one of the problems certain people in Portland once had with me was that I did not ask for help when I needed it.  I almost laughed out loud!  Where I am from, asking for help is totally lame.  Only the weaklings do it.  But there, in Oregon, asking for help is part of the culture.  Lovely.  

Outside, we saw banana slugs and wet, slow-walking salamanders the size of very skinny rats.  

                                      

Inside, women were working on all kinds of projects, each person with her own hobby.

Sol let me build the fire in the main room.  I set out some poems by Hafiz (my main squeeze) before the poetry-writing session in case anyone needed an example of a poem.  We had a good group and we sat on cushions in front of the fireplace.  We did a few warm-ups then I gave the group four prompts to choose from and we all wrote a few masterpieces.  Colleen, a woman in her sixties who reminded me of my dad, wrote a poem when, I think, she does not usually express herself like that.  She was moved by what had come out of the pen onto the paper.  Power of poetry, my friends.  

                                        

That night, Bridie and I fell asleep by the fireplace.  I got up a few times to put wood on the fire but we didn’t even have blankets and were way too lazy to walk through the rain and back to get ours, so I didn’t get much sleep that night either, but I was suspended in that in between place that I like so much.

                                        

Sunday

Framed on the wall in the camp dining hall were the words:

Hospitality is the creation

Of a free space

Where a stranger

Can enter and

Become a friend

Instead of an enemy.

Christian hospitality

Does not seek

To change people,

But to offer them

Space where

Change

Can take place.

-Henri J M Nouwen

That that is exactly how Oregon, Portland, Peace Church, and Camp Myrtlewood had changed my life during my twenties and how I will be forever grateful.

                                      

In our last meeting as a group we traced our hands on paper, cut them out and colored designs on them.  Then we sat them on a table and picked one.  Whoever’s hand we got, we are responsible for lifting in thoughts and prayers throughout the year and since each woman prays for another who prays for another, we are all lifting the whole circle.  The woman who got mine said it would look great in her VW Westfalia van.  

The drive back to Portland was one of my favorite parts of the trip.  Bobbi got me caught up on all the church ‘news.’  I felt so included I could pop.

We got back to the Airbnb.  Still in our days-old camping outfits, we were sitting on the stoop smoking a bowl and that’s when a car pulled up and we met Brandy for the first time.  Brandy lit a cigarette like the classy lady she is and we all got to talking.  And the conversations we had with Brandy, who was also staying in our Airbnb, were the kind that keep going up.  Turns out she is a life coach from Little Rock, Arkansas.  And you will never guess what she was in Portland to be certified as.  A professional cuddler.  Might sound weird at first but as Brandy explained what she did, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world.  We baked an oven pizza from Safeway (https://local.safeway.com/safeway/or/portland/6901-ne-sandy-blvd.html) and fell asleep.

Monday

Morning has broken like the first morning!  I am in Portland!  Ladadeedah!  That’s how gay for Portland I felt when I woke up on our last day in PDX. 

Kat had the day off work and had graciously offered to drive us up to sightsee in the Columbia River Gorge, a stunning natural wonder.   And Brandy had the day off too, so we invited her to ride out of the city with us.

While waiting to get picked up, we talked with Brandy about everything under the sun.  We talked about how Portland has a feminine energy and that’s why it’s so comfortable.  We talked about the consequences of boho fashion trends and the marketability of optimism.  Another thing we talked about is the firework kid.  The teenager who started the huge fire that burned out a lot of the Columbia River Gorge this fall.  We considered all the hatred he must feel on him, especially in a place that so values its natural resources.  And we talked about restorative justice, how the best thing to do would be to invite the boy, his parents, and anyone involved in the situation to talk it out and figure out the best thing for everybody, which would probably include him helping clean up his mess.  In other words, when someone messes up, rather than shaming and shunning them, we should love them through it and assist in the resolution as a community.  Keep this in mind, it’ll figure in later that night.

Kat picked us up.  We drove out of Portland and stopped at the Women’s Forum overlook for a view of the Gorge and Vista House.  It’s the kind of beauty that inspires. 

                                      

 The waterfalls, and there are lots of them up there, were mostly closed due to the fire damage.  We walked down to the Sandy river and I wrote a poem as I gazed toward a bridge I’ve seen times before. 

                                      

Then we walked through touristy beautiful Troutdale and had lunch at Ristorante Di Pomello (http://dipompello.com/  ).  I got coffee and the mushrooms and prawns with bread.  It was so good.  Hearty mushrooms and tiger shrimp in a cream sauce, soaked up with sliced Italian baguette.  Yum.  I got a bite of Brandy’s tiramisu, too.

                                        

We walked down the road and sat on a ledge by the train tracks.  We continued sitting, swinging our legs like hoodlums as an entire train from Canada passed in front of us.  Moss was everywhere.

                                         

The day was beautiful, the sky clear enough that we could see Mt. Hood and Mt. St. Helens.  That’s something else.

I wanted to see Wayne again before we left so I called him.  “Hello?”  “Who is this?”  “This is Kerby.  Hello Amanda.”  “Oh, haha, hey Kerby, I just wanted to tell you how inspiring your movie was the other day, wow, you really hit that one out of the park, friend . . . . . . . okay, I didn’t mean to call you.”  “I didn’t think so but it was good to see you too.”  Should have saved my contact names but it’s more fun not to. 

We waited for the bus again.  Bridie was catching a cold.  We got to Wayne’s for the last time and I got to see my old friends Clarissa and her son, Alexander.  We even took a walk to the park like old times except this time Wayne was riding in a Hoveround, which he let Alexander drive most of the way back.  What a softie.

                                           

We dressed up all wild and fancy for our concert that night.  Tash Saldona at the Wonder Ballroom.  Bridie was a big fan, and from what I had heard, she was an amazing musician. 

                                            

On the way there, not only did we see the crescent moon hanging over the city skyline, but we were stopped by not one, but two packs of Christian teens on a scavenger hunt.  They needed pictures with “hipsters” and we fit the profile, I guess.  We obliged.  Great job teaching kids about stereotyping, Young Life.
We made it to the Wonder Ballroom for the Tash Sultana concert!  We were listening to her play and loop a variety of instruments, single-handedly, in songs ranging from jazz to rock, and it was amazing.  She is very talented.
But although she is known for her good vibes, her concert would be the biggest source of negativity that we had felt on the entire trip so far.
After about a half hour of music, she welcomed the crowd and gave a little speech.  She said something along the lines of "There are three rules for my concerts!  One.  If you're a homphobe, get the FUCK OUT!"  The crowd cheered loudly.  "Two!  If you're a racist, GET THE FUCK OUT!"  Thunderous cheers.  "AND THREE, IF YOU'RE TRANSPHOBIC,"  the whole crowd screaming and poking the air with her now, "GET THE FUCK OUT!!!"  Immediately after she says, "Welcome to the house of love,"  jazz riff.
Having grown up counterculture myself, I am used to being uncomfortable with what people say in that sort of situation, so I could have let it slide.  But Bridie, who had just had her first week in the beautiful Pacific North West, learning the power of being embraced by community and restorative justice and love for others, did not appreciate the sentiment.
After reveling in the hate-fueled emotion and energy she had just gotten from the crowd, the next song Tash played she told us was all about killing your ego.  Bridie laughed out loud and said, "you wanna get out of here?"  I shrugged sure.  There was a lady swinging a baby all around me anyway, completely in my personal space, her and that baby, so I was ready to head out whenever. 

                                                

We got back to the Airbnb house for our last evening in the Rose City.  Brandy had left a sweet note and a pre-rolled called La Blanca for us white girls.  We went outside and toasted the week the Universe and ourselves had set up there in Portland, Oregon.

Tuesday

We woke up hella early and packed.  Walked outside and smoked one last bowl for the homies.  Then I took the glass piece and the one-hitter and left them lovingly on mossy steps as a surprise present for someone that day.  Like many things from the week, we couldn’t take ‘em with us.  

                                     

Lou Smith really overdid it with kindness that morning.  Not only did he take us to the airport and save us hours of pushing and pulling the dysfunctional suitcase all over the city, but he gave us a gift that I will never forget.  They don’t make ‘em like that anymore.  Love you, Lou.

We ate our last meal in PDX at the Burgerville in the airport (https://order.burgerville.com/menu/burgerville-pdx).  I had chicken strips and sweet potato fries while Bridie had their spicy bean burger.  Yum.  

                                    

We sped down the pavement and floated up, up, and away.  It was clear and I snapped a few shots of Mt. Hood from the plane.  I think we saw Mt. Adams and Mt. Washington too from up there.

                                      

“Emotion is the body’s response to a thought,” I was reading Bridie’s book by Eckart Tolle.  He was talking about pain bodies and how they like recreating painful events and how the way to heal yourself is to pay attention to what triggers you emotionally.  That is how you know where you need healing.  Good stuff.  There was a picture of a fawn on the wing of the plane. 

The Denver airport is not actually in Denver.  But that was cool because we got to take the train through the desert with a great view of the Rocky Mountains and the Mile High City.  Our layover was about 8 hours or something so we planned to explore the city.  The train was very nice - this was the cleanest and most comfortable public transportation I had ever been on.  All the posters on the walls were about emergency procedures, though, so that was different.   Out the window I saw a tumbleweed, slow rolling, all alone out there.  Rocky Mountain High, Colorado.  

   

Saw a dispensary and had to check it out!  If anyone asked us the difference between legal weed in Portland and Denver, we wanted to know our stuff.  We entered Lodo Wellness Center (http://lodowellnesscenter.com/).  The women in there were very chill, kind, and knowledgeable.  The bud was much more expensive, we found.  I guess it’s harder to grow plants in the dessert than in Oregon where it rains all the time and the plants are happy everyday.  You might find that my entire take on Denver is a little negative, but keep in mind that I was coming from Portland and was blinded by bias.

                       

Daniel had told me the women in Colorado like really handsome men, but I didn’t know what he meant until I got there.  Wowza.  If I ever find myself husband shopping, that is where I will head.  Not everyone in our party was objectifying the men, however.  Bridie directed us toward the park and when asked, she said she hadn’t really noticed but thought they all looked fratty.  Hmmph! 

Denver somehow looks like it was all built at the same time.  As if an architecture student in the 70’s said, let’s make a city with all the conveniences of the modern age . . . And it grew up out of his sketches in a matter of months.  It is impressively clean though.

                                       

It is like DC or Charlottesville in a way, if you know what I mean.  Unlike in Portland, the distinction between the haves and have-nots was obvious.  And what the haves all have is two of the same dog.  Not sure what’s up with that, but it looks like in Denver, dogs come in pairs.

A homeless dude asked me if I had any money for a cup of coffee.  Problem was, he was counting his wad of cash at literally the same time.  I said no.  Don't worry, he’s probably fine.

We got coffee at INK!  (https://www.inkcoffee.com/).  A brand new employee made us an almond joy non-dairy coffee drink and I think we made his day going on about how good it was.

We walked around (checking out guys.  wait, what?) and then saw a window painted with the words:  “Anthony’s Pizza:  New York Pizza by the slice.” (http://www.anthonyspizzaandpasta.com/)  We decided to be the judge of that and ordered some dinner.  People were dressed more casually in there.  One woman was so casual that outside, she had had her head in a trashcan, and then inside, with her family, she smacked her baby’s hand for messing around.  West is still Wild, it seems.

One slice of pizza would have been enough for anyone but I had two.  One with artichoke hearts and one with pepperocinis.  There was an old style Coke machine in the restaurant that looked like it was brand new.  That seemed about as Denver as a tall PBR to me.  The pizza was good, maybe as good as New York pizza.  I don’t know; I’m not from New York.  I’m from Virginia, which is where I was heading.

On the train back to the airport I had an idea for a new bumper sticker:  TURN ON DELIGHT ©

The weather there was dry and my eyes and nose felt parched.  By Wednesday, we would have been in four climates in four days.  No wonder Bridie was sniffling.  I slept curled up on the airport floor before we finally loaded the plane to Dullas.  There was a picture of a bluebird on the wing of our plane.

Wednesday

5 AM arrive in DC.  Trevor, Bridie’s BF, picked us up and he brought Lola!  Me and Lola slept on the drive home.
What a trip!  Thank you to everyone who was a part of it.  Pacific North West, I will always love you.  

 

 Thanks for reading!  Amanda out!