Last week’s office gossip was punctuated by many epic debates: To brunch or not to brunch? Ice cream versus froyo? Watching movies or actually living life? Whiskey instead of scotch? Is it cool to hate someone who hates something you love?
Unfortunately, I’m the worst representative Seattle has. The best I can ever do is let people know that “Seattle’s really pretty when it’s sunny.” In comparison, Portland’s fanbase is practically rabid for its weird little city. Because of my lackluster admiration for Seattle, my Portland co-workers are constantly encouraging me to relocate 200 miles south. (+1 for Portland: No one in Seattle has ever tried to convince outsiders to move here.)
Last week, I roadtripped down to see some of my favorite colleagues with only two things on my calendar: working, and seeing Portland through a Portlander’s eyes. I’ve spent time in the city before — eating Voodoo doughnuts, drinking Spanish coffee and getting my nose re-pierced at one of the neighborhood tattoo parlors — but I’ve never really looked at it as much different than a smaller version of Seattle.
This opinion does not sit well with my friend Barrett. He has spent the past two years unabashedly listing Portland’s superior qualities and is determined to convert me.
So, like any good lobbyist with a cause, he tailored his most recent pitch to his audience: “Food and booze are good.”
In a very short amount of free time, we managed to eat and/or drink at Portland City Grill, Old Town Pizza, Lincoln Restaurant, Irving Street Kitchen, Bare Bones Cafe (twice), and Biscuits. Considering the limited free time I had, that’s a lot of rad stuff. It’s also not counting the entertainment time, such as walking B’s adorable dog Indy, drinking microbrews and gossiping, or watching TV and movies I wholeheartedly approve of and watch regularly like “Parks and Recreation,” “Mean Girls” and “Lost In Translation.”
And I’ll admit it, even though Seattle doesn’t want me to, Portland enchants me.
But I’m still not moving there.
*Image via curtisperry.