I figured I should probably get around to posting about my trip to Oregon that I took almost two months ago. One of the downsides to grad school is that it pretty much consumes your life, and doesn’t leave much time for a social life. I find most of my social interactions have been through Facebook since I don’t have alot of free time for much other than work and homework. That being said, when Jeanine asked if I would drive up to Oregon with her to visit her family in Reedsport, I thought it would be a good opportunity to get away for awhile. At least from work, I still had to bring homework with me.

Since the drive from LA to Reedsport is about 14 hours, we decided that it would be best to plan a layover in Sacramento to break up the drive. After getting off work, packing the car and strapping my bike to the trunk, we were on our way at about 8pm on Friday and rolled into Sacramento a little after 2am. I spent most of the drive sleeping, but the highlights of the trip were stopping at In-N-Out in Merced at 11:30 to a packed crowd from the local football game (Ah, how I miss those days). I realized that playing high school football in Merced must suck ass when it came to road games. If I thought a trip to Rosamond was bad, I can’t imagine what those kids go through every Friday night. The second highlight involved me tweeting (yes, I Twitter, see sidebar) about going to Sacramento, and being promptly followed by the Sacramento Bee. Unfollow please.

After a layover in the State Capital and breakfast, we were on our way to Reedsport, which is located on the Oregon Coast along the Umpqua River. After a good 4 hours of driving after leaving Sacramento, I made the observation that California is a big fucking state. It had been about 17 years since I’ve transversed the northern regions of California and it seems like a longer ride when you’re 29 than when you’re 12. Upon entering Oregon, the obvious difference is how green it is. Trees everywhere. I think I saw more green over the course of the week than a pothead at a Bob Marley Festival. The second, and less obvious, is that the roads are so much better. Oregon Department of Transportation is kicking the shit out of CalTrans. These roads were smoother than a baby’s bottom. Also, as Jeanine’s dad explained, it is illegal in Oregon to “coast” in the left lane. It is for passing only. If only this were the law in California, but then again, Californians would be too selfish to follow the law and would probably coast along 10 mph under the speed limit in the fast lane while talking on their cell phones…wait, that already happens. Another driving thing I noticed is that Oregonians take their speed limits seriously. If the speed limit goes from 60 to 25 for a school zone, motherfuckers slow down to 25 mph, and speed back up when the sign says they can go 60 again. Amazing, and quite irritating for a California driver used to flying through school zones. Kids? What kids? Shouldn’t they be in the classroom?

Eventually, we made it to Reedsport, which is a pretty small town. It’s not as small as Drain, OR, but they only have about 3 stop lights. Jeanine’s aunt and uncle live right along the river, and the view from their backyard was beautiful. Clear skies, clean air, peace and quiet. During the week we were in town, I don’t think I heard a single barking dog, and only saw 1 black person, which was mildly disconcerting. I like to see at least a few of my people are comfortable living where I’m visiting. That being said, I didn’t feel uncomfortable at all while I was there, and everyone was very nice. It was definitely a slower way of living, with the exception of running from tsunamis or going to church in the nude. People not in a rush, they make small talk with you while you’re getting gas or coffee, or even stop you in the supermarket to comment on your jewelry. Refreshing to see compared to the me-first mentality of Los Angeles.

Since I was in the general vicinity of Portland, I decided to take a couple days during the trip to get up and visit Ron. Figured since he’s been living there for about 2 years, I should at least visit him once. It was about 3 1/2 hours to Portland, so I bunkered down, set the nav, and was on my way. If there’s one thing I love about driving, it’s driving on a windy road, which is the only way from Reedsport to I-5. Fun times. The only worrisome part was a tunnel that was just wide enough for two cars with a sign to look out for cyclists. It would take some steel cojones to ride through that tunnel. After driving through the town where I should be mayor, I arrived in Portland, where Ron immediately informed me that the night would begin with Whiskey tasting at a downtown bar. So much for pacing it. Before we got to that, Ron gave me a driving tour of the town, which is very interesting in that it is a mixture of old and new. There was a building ordinance put into place that limits new development, so you have some very new and modern buildings as well as some very old buildings. One thing I took away from Oregon is that people firmly believe if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Does the sign outside from 1956 still work? Fuck it, leave it alone. Who cares if it’s 2009. After the tour and a stop at legendary Powell’s books, which is a 4 story, single city block bookstore with a really cool rare book room, and a stop at Ron’s favorite bar, Clyde Common, we were on to the Whiskey tasting. Now, I had just recently cracked open the bottle of Crown Royal Sam had brought over at Christmas, so I was thinking I could hang. Wrong. Straight Whiskey (at least the ones they had) tasted like straight hot ass. At least Ron was in agreement. From there, we were off to another favorite of his, Beaker and Flask, which has an assortment of custom cocktails and where Ron took a ‘rum flight’ consisting of rums from Brazil, Haiti, Puerto Rico and Venezuela, of which all but one tasted like straight gasoline. I’ll have my rum mixed with Coke, please. While we caught up, I had an interesting observation of the laissez-faire attitude on gentleman’s clubs in Portland when Ron asked the waitress where she liked going, and she had her own opinion on which club was best on which night. Odd.

Just when we thought were in for the night, at 10:30 nonetheless, Ron got a call from some bartender friends who were headed out to Chinatown. Off we went. One of his friends was in desperate need of both coffee and karaoke, and after a Vietnamese iced coffee that brought her back from the dead, we were off to a bar that had karaoke on the menu. At 12am. On a Tuesday. Surprisingly, the place was jumping, and was instantly stunned when Ron’s friend got on the mic. Girl could sing. She needs a record deal, not a Chinese karaoke bar in Portland singing Norah Jones. I decided that since I was never seeing any of these people again, that I would throw out my sense of embarrassment and did a forgettable rendition of Bust A Move (apologies to Young MC) before we called it a night. It was 1:30am and Ron’s friends were still going strong. Damn bartenders.

Once back in Reedsport, Jeanine’s uncle took us down to the sand dunes, which cover about 50 miles of the coast and were covered with ATVs. He showed us around a bit and I got some night shots of a multicolored lighthouse that was on a Coast Guard base. A few more days of relaxation, and we were headed back South. After another 14 hour drive (I’ve noticed the feeling in my ass goes out at around the 3 hour mark) and a layover in Sacramento, we were back home. Being in the valley and being on the Oregon Coast are like night and day. Too bad it takes a day to get there.