9/29--Dear Portland

Congratulations! You are officially off my shit list. You behaved yourself very well this time around and I'm glad to see that you have grown up.

That said...grow up. You are an oblivious 9 year old in a precocious princess dress. You read magazines about cool stuff and you make your mom buy it for you but you don't know how to organically evolve as a city should. Festering endlessly in a utopian dream, someday you'll have to move out and pay your own rent. Then you'll see...

Normal cities are grouchy and dirty. Thank god for all the homeless people downtown keeping you a little bit real. They are the constant reminder of Portland past...a city that's never really given a shit about the poor, preferring to build condos and freeways than maintain affordable housing.

Maybe I'm being harsh. Maybe I'm jealous that people here can trip over a sushi roll and land face first in a cup of coffee by just stepping outside their door. If you hate your clothes you can inhale really hard and suck a new vintage dress onto your body. Okay, fine. I'm sorry if I'm being unfair. I'm just a visitor, reaping the rewards while not having to sort any of the trash into recyclables, compostables or turn-it-into-art-ables.

It was a close call, though, Portland. Friday night was certainly a challenge, when you brought your most unentertainable minions to our 10pm show. We could almost hear the eyes rolling. You know, most people at least clap when a girl hangs from the back of one heel! I know you show your appreciation in a different way than most cities—the harder your arms are crossed over your chest, the more it means you like something...but it's just disconcerting for non-natives. Cameron almost whipped out a dental drill to start pulling teeth.

But, all is forgiven, and you have the Kennedy School to thank. Only in such an idealistic city would people think they could take an old school and fill it with bars, ahi tuna tostadas, a movie theatre, $4 mircobrews and a swimming pool and NOT have someone drown. But, Portland, you did this very commendable thing. I kicked back in the pool with 12 or so other tattooed, vintage-bathing-suit wearing 25-35 year olds and let some of my problems with you slide under the water and die.

The ice coffee with ice cubes made of coffee that I had the next day also helped.

So let's make a truce. I'll stop shit talking you to everyone that says the word “Portland” if you stop gentrifying neighborhoods and building ugly condos. “Too late,” you say? Well then, game on.

Love,
Shayna