Relatively uneventful past couple of days, enjoying some 70+ degree days by playing student, i.e. walking around a college campus listening to music and/or reading like I have nothing better to be doing. Which I generally don't.
This afternoon Adam and I are setting out for Portland, OR, the nearly undisputed capitol of weirdness and home to a population possibly more tattooed and bizarre than even Cleveland if Anthony Bourdain is to be believed (No Reservations has become my travel planning TV show of choice pretty quickly).
During the infancy of the planning of this trip, I had suggested Portland because it was "more easily accessible" to Davis than Austin, TX. As it turns out, its really not. A flight from here to Austin was about the same amount of money than a flight to Portland, which makes little sense to me. 4 or 5 hours on an aircraft shouldn't be the same cost as 1.5 hours; that's just not right.
So on this basis, we are driving (Prius-ing). Pop quiz: How long of a drive is it from Davis, CA, to Portland, OR?? If you guessed like 9 hours, you're right. Obviously, I had no clue where Portland (or Davis, for that matter) was geographically. But I've made my bed, and now I have to spend 9 hours driving to it, for in Portland awaits the Hotel Fifty, a few hundred microbreweries and their beer to be consumed, and Mr. Dan Capriola, who will be flying to meet us. Also have received the exciting news that Katherine will be flying up to join in the fun on Friday afternoon/evening.
Portland, be prepared. Pictures and synopses to follow.
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