Day 8: Portland, Oregon

It's only fitting that Portland, Oregon is the subject of our 100th post! I love Portland and especially PGE Park, home of the Portland Beavers.
Click HERE to see the rest of the photos from Day 8.

Did I mention that I love Portland, Oregon? I loved it when I first visited last September and I still love it today. Admittedly, I screwed up when planning this leg of the trip. We should have stayed longer. Oh well, that just means that we'll have to come back again. I see another trip to the northwest in our future. Just call me Nostradamus.

Washington and the first part of Oregon were almost desert like. Needless to say, not a fun part of the drive. However, once we hit the Columbia River Gorge Scenic Area, Oregon was incredible. The Columbia River Gorge is a spectacular river canyon cutting the only sea-level route through the Cascade Mountain Range. It's 80 miles long and up to 4,000 feet deep with the north canyon walls in Washington State and the south canyon walls in Oregon State. We drove the Oregon side and stopped at Vista House to see this view.The wind up there was ridiculous as evidenced in the following photo.

I guess she could have just stuck a fork in an electrical outlet or perhaps that's just a photo left over from a visit to the Magic House. Either way, I'll be totally amused by this shot for weeks.

Once we got into town, we headed straight to PGE Park to get our tickets. We then went to Iyara Thai restaurant for a late lunch and oh...my...god. This was the best Thai food I've ever had. It beats the ass of Chandra, my former favorite Thai place in Pasadena, California. Chandra will always have a special place in my heart, but Iyara opened up an industrial size can of whoop-ass to steal the Thai food crown. We got Laab (aka Larb) and Khao Pad Kra Pao (aka Chili Garlic Fried Rice) and it was soooooooo good. I'm not going to brush my teeth for a week in the hopes that I'll still be able to taste it.

So after a quick and much needed nap, we set off for the game via the MAX, Portland's mass transit train. It was only two stops from our hotel and it was FREE. I like free. We exited the train and walked about 100 yards to PGE Park. This is my favorite minor league park. It was built in 1926 and the Beavers have played there since the 1950s, when their old stadium was condemned. Nice way to get a new stadium...play there until it can maim people.

Just like my visit last September, I loved the park, both inside and out. Julia liked it too, but said it's so much better in person - the photos don't do it justice. The playing surface rests about 50 feet below street level so you could actually stand on the sidewalk to look down in on the game. And it just has a very retro/old school atmosphere to it.

As you may or may not know, we have four photo rituals per game. They are as follows:

1. A shot of the outside of the stadium.
2. A panoramic of the field.
3. Hottie fan shots.
4. A photo of each of us with the team's mascot.

It doesn't matter if Julia attends the game with me or not, the rituals must be performed. It's rather like standing during the 7th inning stretch or breathing. They simply must occur.

During my last trip, I attended two Beavers games and the mascot did not appear at either. I got screwed, pure and simple. Tonight would be different, I promised myself. Surely I could not be thwarted once more. I know I'm destined for eternal damnation, but God wouldn't toy with me in this way, would he?

Long story short, Lucky was in the house tonight, but herds and gaggles of miniature human children swarmed him, like maggots feeding on a roadkill skunk carcass. This happened on both occasions when we left our seats in pursuit of ritual #4. As much as I'd like to have swatted the little ankle biters like blood sucking mosquitoes, it would have made Julia "uncomfortable," so I refrained from unleashing the backhand I had locked and loaded for serious cranial damage. Refraining cost us our first two opportunities of mascot photo bliss, but the third time was a charm as we hunted the dam constructing rodent down in the fourth row.

He was in the process of scribbling his signature on some horribly sketched artwork of a six year old. I ask you, of what value is the mascot's illegibly scribbled name in red Sharpie upon a navy blue hat? I'm guessing little to none since red doesn't show up all that well on navy. That and the fact that it's a semi-aquatic rodent's autograph. Mickey Mantle or Ted Williams Lucky ain't. The Lucky suit is filled with the only doofus stupid enough to don a fur beaver capsule for four hours in 98 degree heat. If he's lucky (Get it? That's his name, so of course he's lucky!) there is an operational fan built into the head quite unlike the mascot heads I've worn in the past.

One more thing about Lucky. He was a slight bit jerky. He must know "Spike" from Omaha - the king of all jerkfaces and my friend Elgy's arch-nemesis. When Julia asked Lucky to pose while he doodled on hats and paper thin t-shirts, he poked her on the cheek with his Sharpie leaving a six-inch gaping wound that left a pool of blood beneath her. Okay, so it was just a red dot about the size of the back zit from Spokane and no blood flowed, but the point is that he wrote on her face without expressed written permission.

Okay, enough about Lucky. It's time to retire because tomorrow is our longest day of driving yet - 6 hours and 53 minutes (so sayeth Mapquest) - from Portland to Boise, Idaho. To top it off, we lose an hour crossing time zones. A special thanks to the English mariners and railroad folks who instituted Greenwich Mean Time for the sole purpose of making my life hell via the Mountain time zone centuries later. Thanks guys. That really worked out great for me.

Here's the link to the photos from Day 8.

Next stop: Day 9 in Boise, Idaho.