I took the first stint of driving and pulled onto I5 from the airport, I think my first words were "Fucking hell this road's big!" After two and a half hours of eight-lane, sixty-mile-an-hour mundanity, which included such roadside highlights as the Tacoma Dome and the Washington Museum of Glass, we made it into Portland under the guidance of Led Zeppelin.
Portland is probably quite a lively place normally, but on a Sunday afternoon it was as dead as the horse-sized roadkill we passed somewhere near Olympia.
Fortunately, the hotel was just gorgeous. It was some kind of converted hospital or insane asylum, so every room was bright white with wooden floors and vintage fittings. It was very cool and made up for Portland's lack of excitement. After a sound thrashing at pool and a couple of beers at the local pool bar (which allowed smoking indoors) it was time for bed.
Oh, and if Seattle is the city of midgets, then Portland is the city of homeless crazy people and hippies - they could have been one and the same though. It was hard to tell - witness the homeless Elvis.
