G'bye Indian Summer

So far, October has been mild, but not drastically so for this region. The rain is re-establishing a foot-hold and the nights are getting noticably chilly. Here within The Pavilion, the T-shirts and "lighter wear" are being replaced with heavier garb. R.H. and I are playing the usual "game of chicken," seeing who wimps out first and fires up the furnace. It's already kicked on by itself when the interior temps dropped just below 65 F a couple of nights ago...
The possible longterm effects of Global Warming present a horrifying scenario, but mild winters do mean lower heating bills. Nobody around here wants to (literally) pay for heavy snows, freezes and ice storms. -Not to mention that god-awful East wind that sucks the heat out of here like a blood-starved vampire.
This is the seasonal adjustment period, when it finally sinks in that any sensible person won't be wearing shorts outside for at least the next 4-5 months. Time to stash the electric fans, stock up on firewood and cuddle up to your girl... -Or- spend more time at her place!

Portland Spirit

Last Saturday night, Elaine and I finally decided to use our tickets for a dinner cruise on board the Portland Spirit. (A tour boat with three decks that offers scenic lunch and dinner cruises on the Willamette River.)

This was our first voyage and we'd been sitting on the opportunity since the tickets were purchased last December. A combination of an impending ticket expiration date and a forecast of true Octoberish weather prompted us to dial in our reservations. The official Portland Spirit website lists a "climate controlled indoor environment" but we figured we should do this before it became too cold and miserable to be able to take a stroll on the outside deck. (**Smoking Area**)

PNW Indian Summers can generate a sense of complacency, especially when they stretch well on into October, but you'd have to be a fool (or a fresh California transplant) to procrastinate on taking advantage of this seasonal reprieve. Like a temporary stay of execution, when it's over, it's all over. Wave g'bye to the mellow temps at least until mid-to-late spring.

Additional costs beyond the ticket price of $124.00 dollars for two adults began before we even stepped onto the boat. The Saturday night reservation and 6:30 PM boarding time forced us to choose between Tri-Met or pay into the downtown Portland parking racket for a garage/lot or a

street meter, the latter of which would charge for at least a half an hour before the 7:00 PM, M-Saturday cut-off time. We chose to drive and paid $1.25 at a meter, right around the block from the designated boarding ramp on Salmon and Front.

We joined a cluster of passengers queuing loosely around the seawall, where the Portland Spirit was moored. Based on appearances there seemed to be no consensus on dress code for this event. It was a mixed bag of semi-to-very-casual attire (such as ourselves) and the extreme suit & tie, evening gown variety. The couple standing behind us was dressed in jeans and sweatshirts,

while a small group in front of us was of the black tie set.

Finally when the line began moving forward, we observed that everyone ahead of us was asked to show photo ID (some nautical Homeland Security requirement?) and being herded behind a Portland Spirit life ring to pose for a photograph. I figured the latter part of the ritual was another cash scheme, but everyone in front of us took his or her place for the camera, as did Elaine and I.

We descended a fairly long, steep boarding ramp. The angle unnerved Elaine with her semi-casual footwear and I briefly wondered how it would be for someone in a wheelchair. Upon entering the boat I wasn't surprised to see that the interior was laid out like a restaurant, with a hostess podium and the dining tables placed alongside the windows. We were promptly seated at a table on the entry-level deck. Elaine was quick to notice that we got “The shit spot table” what in a typical
restaurant would’ve been next to the kitchen door. Indeed, all of the “Portland Spirit Service Staff” were conducting their duties via a service corridor just off to the side of us, which also led to the only bathrooms on the boat. Right behind my back was a small alcove that sported a lonely coat rack rod, with a dozen plastic hangers that remained unused for the duration of our dinner voyage.

We were greeted by “Farrah,” who informed us with practiced cheer that she would be our server for the evening. She rattled off some additional verbiage that mostly escaped me while I glanced at
the menu, seeing that the two available appetizers were an additional $8.00 per order, beyond the included dinner price of the tickets. We ordered one of each; sautéed mushrooms and the shrimp cocktail, along with two Spanish coffees. (Highly recommended by Farrah.) The beverages arrived about 15 minutes later and they were quite tasty, topped with cream, suspended over the coffee mix, curled around/clinging to two straws, resting on the rims of the mugs. Elaine proclaimed the drink to be “Yummy, with a kick.” Mental note to self: Take Elaine to Huber’s…

It was about 45 minutes before the boat detached from the seawall and began its southward journey down the Willamette. Without seeing the lights slipping by on the riverbank, there would have been little detectable sense of motion. Us diners were introduced to the Portland Spirit Captain, who gave a required spiel about life jackets and a plug for the gift shop, which was
followed with a serenade by a handful of “Portland Spirit Service Staff gals.” They sang a cheery little welcome song that reminded me of Summer Camp (or) Outdoor School. A baby grand piano was located on each of the two dining decks and a heavy-set pianist was multi-tasking, settling her cheeks on both benches. The Captains’ monologue and the "welcome song" were repeated on both of the dining decks as we got underway.

The photographer from earlier appeared at the service hallway, flipping through a catalogue of photos harvested from the pre-boarding session. Working his way forward, browsing the diners.
Elaine and I were the first to be offered a print from the “mandatory photo-shoot.” The photographer allowed us to see our picture before making his ten-dollar pitch. We both immediately agreed that the photo was hideous and he quickly moved on in search of other takers.

Our appetizers arrived along with fresh bread. The bread was actually quite good, with a hint of baked-in garlic. The appetizers were also pretty good; a full plate of sliced ‘shrooms in a garlic
butter sauce and large, fantail shrimp with zesty cocktail sauce. A memorable couple was sitting at a table, just forward of ours. “He” was a beefy dude (early to mid 40s) dressed in an expensive looking suit and his date/companion was a slender younger woman, in a red gown, topped with a white, fur shoulder coat. They both reeked of dough. One of the only snippets of conversation I overheard was between “Mr. Beefy” and “Farrah,” when she said: Oh, you’re from New York?” Elaine was sitting with her back to the couple, so she overheard much more from their table, including their frequent complaints, etc… Mr. Beefy: “These mushrooms are terrible!” Ms. Fur coat: I can’t believe this f***ing service!”

For dinner, Elaine ordered a chicken breast with rice pilaf and I had the roast beef ‘entree. Even though the cruise itself was shaping up to be a bit cheesy and overpriced, neither of us had complaints about the quality of the food. The portions were quite sufficient also.

The other local passengers of note were a large group of twelve, seated forward of “Mr. Beefy” & “Ms. fur coat.” They were apparently celebrating a birthday party and drinking heavily. At one point two of the drunken partiers leaned into our table-area to gaze into a dark porthole, trying to pick out landmarks against the interior lighting glare. Elaine and I decided that was a good moment to have a smoke on the upper deck. As we were leaving our table, Elaine whispered: “Did you hear that New York couple?? That fur coat bimbo just cut a loud fart. The guy said, ‘did you just fart?’ The bimbo just laughed proudly about it.” Elaine was laughing in shock. I’d already figured the New York pair looked like “a date gone wrong,” but that cinched it. I was glad to get away from our table for some otherwise fresh air.

At first we had the bow of the boat to ourselves. It was a bit chilly but not too uncomfortable. We saw a few other people on the outer deck above us, but later discovered that some other passengers (wimps) had gathered on the rear deck, to avoid the wind. A few of the braver couples joined us on the bow as we floated back under the inner city bridges; Sellwood, Marquam, Hawthorne, looking up at cars humming/suspended over our heads on a thin, steel grate.

Upon docking, the ever-perky “Portland Spirit Service Staff” was singing their farewell song as a restless group of passengers crowded around the exit door, ready to jump ship. -All said, I’d rate the voyage as a 6 out of 10. If I’d ever board the Portland Spirit again, it would be for a “Lunch Cruise” or a “Blues Cruise.” …Anyone know if those are still going on?

Departure

On the eve of D.T.'s departure to places unknown (as per military obligations) it seems fitting to post a picture of The Pavilion in deliberate, Technicolor glory.

-All will be cool here until your safe return, Cousin...

The Pavilion

:::W E L C O M E:::