For Us To Go

I think my wife would have gladly stayed another week.  But it’s time for us to go.  A final meal, vegan of course.  I let my older one choose, and she’s decided on something that looks attractive but turns out to be a microbrewery that also happens to serve vegan food and that’s not what we wanted for a final meal.  No matter, the next vegan place isn’t far.  And yet another upbeat Portland Lyft driver has dropped us off at a South American themed vegan joint: Epif.  The baked, sweet potato dill chips take some getting used to.  What’s wrong with good old corn chips, I wonder.

Over at the road, across from her dorm by a hedge one needs to hop we drop off or little girl and snap a few photos and exchange a few hugs and bid her farewell and watch as she slowly makes her way across the field and down into the ramp way to the dormitory away from view.  She turns once and twice before she’s gone and I think of the days I used to drop her off for middle school, when she and her sister would sometimes turn to wave as they made their way across the campus yard.  And sometimes they didn’t. 

We have a lot of time to kill.  The flight is a red eye departing at 11:00PM. It’s only just 6:00PM.  The young Portlandier driving our car has an idea for us:  You should watch the sunset from the roof at the Xport Bar and Lounge.  “Yeah, it’s down town and there’s a great view from the top.  You can take in the city and have a drink.  We’re sold and soon we’re up the elevator and engaged in a discussion with an Indian woman who informs us that no, we can’t go to the left.  That area is closed off.  And most of the seats over on the rights side are reserved.  You can sit anywhere you like, over on the porch there.  We spy two tables available in the full glare of the sunset that surely won’t do.  Reluctantly we take a seat by the window and rue the fact that we are simply looking out at another building and its’ glass reflection there across the street.

I do what I can to talk my wife into abandoning this spot and heading to another part of town.  “You know we haven’t seen Powell’s Book Store, which is supposed to be exceptional.  Why don’t we find a better place to have drink down there and dump this joint?”  Another waiter comes and asks for the third time in as many minutes if we need another drink. “No.”  Characteristically, wife suggests she doesn’t want to move anywhere.  So we finished up there at the tower bar and eventually got our final Portland Lyft out to the airport for our long flight home.

Tuesday 8/27/19