Day 13- May 31, 2006 - Portland

We slept late, or rather Doug slept late and I got into bed to wait for him. We finally got out around noon and I worry that we have adjusted too completely to Pacific time. It may hit hard when we get back or we may not even notice the change back as we hadn't really noticed the change to begin with.

A block from the hotel was a sandwich shop and we stopped for lunch. Apparently, at the deli-type places around here, they bring you the food when it's done instead of you waiting at the counter for it. Doug didn't know this, which cause the girl behind the counter to ask him if anything was wrong, addressing him by name.

We walked around, got coffee, went to a local bead store and ended up sitting in Pioneer Square again. But it was later than the day before and not as sunny, so people watching was far less entertaining and we left after not too long. We noticed the same couple of kids playing hackey sack and hanging out on the steps which led us to believe that this is the sort of city that you can live in for a week or two and meet everyone in your sphere.

Back at the hotel, we watched TV- I stumbled upon Passions and Doug regrets that we will miss it the next few days due to travel and actual vacation plans. Part of me feels like this is wasted time to lay around in the hotel room watching bad soap operas, but I try to convince myself that vacation is supposed to be about escape and I guess my trips are always so choreographed that any free time is devoted to sleep. And I don't think that I'm burnt out on travel so much as this city was ill-planned. There is nothing to do but wander through the in-between of west coast life and it feels like this is the halfway point. Everything after this is moving toward heading home.

Doug feels this too, thought not in the same way. When we get back there will be a thousand responsibilities to address, including paying for our exploration. I've been trying not to think of it, and urging him to ignore it too. Right now I am more than willing to give into distraction and there are moments that I need to remind myself of the reality of the situation- that full-fledged adulthood is waiting on my home coast- but I'd like to believe in so many more adventures ahead of me, and if this is in fact a last hurrah of sorts, I feel like it ought to be more. Like I ought to spend months wandering, controlled by things like whim and weather, mapping my course around changes in the wind. And maybe I am not meant for that sort of travel, but I'd like to be.

At night we left the room just after 6, planning to go to a bar for dinner. Doug smoked on the way there, though he resisted at first, citing that he swore never to smoke in front of me. It is the lesser of two evils I have decided and he is quickly adjusting to this new control in his life.

At the bar, I half expected Doug to order me a drink, but he didn't, got just a beer for himself and thanked me profusely for being so understanding. And I am not sure what to make of any of this except that I don't feel anything towards these things because he is old enough to take care of himself and takes care of me more than I let on.

It becomes apparent at the show. We have an hour to kill and not wating to wait in line with the few dozen teenagers that have amassed for the occasion, we divide our time between a music store and searching for an open coffee shop. Back at the venue- the Crystal Ballroom- ten minutes before the tickets said, Doug stops for another cigarette out of sight of the teens out front.

The venue is a three floor walkup- the walls painted with inserts of faux balconies and angels in classical music poses. There were faces inlayed in the columns- laughing comedy faces that led Doug to suspect that this place was once a playhouse. The chandeliers left me guessing otherwise- it was a ballroom of grand proportion in its day with women floating in dresses with underwire skirts on the arms of men with tuxedo tails. There were windows lining the wall, the wall we were facing- one half of the stage- and it was daylight, although rainy and overcast when we went in and I reminded myself to check the effects of this window placement once night fekll, but I forgot about the windows and the world beyond them once the show started.

The less exciting, just for me details are that the show was great: the Lawrence Arms sticking to a lot of stuff off the new album, keeping a sing-along feel to the set and though the songs aren't necessarily my favorites, they were high energy and I was sure I would break into a coughing fit, my throat's revenge for me screaming so loud and so long.

Alkaline Trio opened with Goddamnit in its entirety, which thrilled me to no end. An acoustic set followed, featuring solo songs that I wouldn't identify as their solo acts until well after the fact. I recognize, I sing along. Somewhere along the line, I separate from Doug, though unintentionally. He was wonderful throughout, keeping an arm around me as protection from the evergrowing pit and it made me feel safe and secure in a way that I hadn't thought about before. He is often angry and protective and I know that he is strong- our hotel room wrestling matches have proven so time and time again- but it is easy to forget just how strong until it is tested in the crowd and I am certain he is every bit as capable of protecting me as he claims to be.

I keep moving up though, snaking through the front right corner of the crowd for optimum viewing- one of the disadvantages of being short. And in my weaving, Doug ended up an extra row behind me. I worried that he'd think I was ignoring him, but at the same time I appreciated that he was not bent on wrapping his arms around my waist and locking me in the crowd. Part of me kept waiting for the pit to expand or some poor teenage boy to attempt conversation so Doug could spring into hero action. It didn't happen. I had a great time, though he was annoyed with the crowd, and we left, emerging into the cool night air heading for the hotel.

My voice is not as sore as I thought it would be, but my ears are buzzing like neon signs outside roadside motels.