Smug Portland

Fellow Californian, if you like people thinking you’re an asshole, head north. And make sure you tell them where you came from.

I spent the last week in Portland, Oregon, and was shocked at how much cooler everyone is there than down here in California.

“California is everything that is wrong with the world today,” said some guy I met in a bar; right after I told him I live in LA. Then he tricked me into buying him a drink. The exact sequence of events is a little bit hazy, but it involved him promising to buy the second round and then promptly disappearing into the crowd.

But I’m not complaining. As a dickhead Californian, I deserved it. Thanks for setting me straight, dude.

Then there was the elderly security guard in the airport who studied the Georgia driver’s license in front of me for three minutes engaging in friendly small talk with its owner. He took one look at me and my California ID, and said “Now this one I see too many of. You guys steal all our water.”

I could also mention the pale and flabby girl sitting alone at a bar, who pointed out to me and my friends that we “aren’t even from around here.”

We accidentally mentioned to her that we had just come from Cabaret, a local gentlemen’s club. “That’s the worst strip club in Portland.” She said. Fair enough, it was really narrow and dark, with two tiny stages pushed up against the wall and only three girls on the job. But we had enjoyed ourselves there.

“Where should we go then? What’s the best strip club in Portland?” We asked, wanting to take advantage of her wisdom.

“The Magic Garden.” She said confidently. So we went to the Magic Garden. It was darker, dirtier, and had one stage and two girls working. I had the feeling that if we had gone to the Magic Garden first, that would have been the worst strip club in Portland.

Don’t get me wrong. I actually fell in love with the town. The drinks are cheap, the mountains on the horizon beautiful. It reportedly has the nation’s highest number of brew pubs and strip clubs per capita. There is a vibrant local music scene. But I didn’t like the smug attitude towards its neighbors to the south.

Sure there are problems here in California—overcrowding, excessive materialism, hour long commutes, and so on. That’s what this blog is supposed to be about after all. But, Portland certainly isn’t immune from modern ills like the locals seem to think. The streets are filled with young runaways and drug addicts. Smugness and self-satisfaction are running rampant. And, let’s face it, the weather sucks. Really, Portland is a haven for people who can’t hack it in other, more fast-paced (and relevant) parts of the country.

So if those guys up there in the woods are going to be hating on California we are going to have to take action and defend ourselves. Let’s start with an embargo on Oregon’s main exports. That would include beer, Nikes, and, ummmm….more beer?

I think we can do just fine without them.