After eating half price sushi rolls that included shrimp tempura & burdock covered in fresh tuna, we go to a coffeeshop to write this blog and realize we cannot because Sam forgot her computer charger. Fine. So then we decide that, since we have gotten no more than 4 hours of sleep a night (drunkenness, mania, makin' out, loud clanging breakfasts, freezing, being afraid of rabbits), and we have a long drive ahead, we should get a room to stay in. A room of our own. Two beds. Yeah.
Well, getting a room is difficult when you have no money and fine tastes. The entire coffeeshop, patrons & baristas, was employed in our search. We looked at cute boutique hotels and friendly cottage-style hostels. Finally, after an hour and a half, we checked into the Motel 6. Smoking room, of course, because we both love smoking in bed and who lets you do that, ever? The Motel 6, that's who. Tricia regrets this and has been Febreezing the shit out of her possessions ever since. We planned on watching TV and sleeping. We did neither. But we did glean some fashion inspiration from That 70's Show, which, it turns out, is not funny. (Ed. "I think it's funny." - Tricia).
Then we decide to go back to this place called The Gypsy because it was been looking intriguing during the day. We drive around in circles for 45 minutes. Literal circles. Our tiny car, with no power steering, makes perfect circles in the middle of roads. This is good because Sam is generally going the wrong way. Coincidentally, it turns out to be karaoke night, just like our last night in Seattle. Only this time, Portland loves us. We love Portland. We sing "I Think We're Alone Now," the Tiffany version, and it rocks. Everyone dances.
Pisces-Virgo. Rising. A very good sign, indeed.
Then we sing Avril Lavigne's "Girlfriend," not such a hit, and then Sam sings "Leader of the Pack" for which she requested some lady backup singers. She was accused of gender discrimination and then literally every person in the bar ran up behind her to be her backup. Every person except Tricia, actually, who was the only person there that didn't know this song. (Ed. "Leader of the Pack. Brought the house down.--Tricia") Also, this was the re-debut, after 2 years, of Sam's pioneer dress and everyone liked it. Straight boys kept complimenting it. We are now confused about what straight boys like.
We go home to our smoky room, drive around in more circles, go through the BK drive-thru and go home again. We notice that the smoker floor is also the pet floor. Because smokers are like animals, in the eyes of the Motel 6.
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