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Once a year, the Navy sails up the Columbia, makes a slight left at the Willamette, and triple-parks a few big gray ships at the downtown seawall.
It's all part of the Rose Festival, a creaky old Portland tradition involving parades, a queen, and a lot ofmeaningless bullshit charming old-fashioned ceremony.
So I'm walking to work along the river on Sunday afternoon (yes, fear and stress make me do this now) and the "Rose Festival Fleet" is in, and the river is full of pleasure craft.
( It was a lovely Sunday. Unless you were a 'terris'. )
I didn't sit there too long. Work--and my need to kiss the boss's ass--was calling, and besides, I didn't want to get shot.
I think I'd like to get back to grain ships now.
It's all part of the Rose Festival, a creaky old Portland tradition involving parades, a queen, and a lot of
So I'm walking to work along the river on Sunday afternoon (yes, fear and stress make me do this now) and the "Rose Festival Fleet" is in, and the river is full of pleasure craft.
( It was a lovely Sunday. Unless you were a 'terris'. )
I didn't sit there too long. Work--and my need to kiss the boss's ass--was calling, and besides, I didn't want to get shot.
I think I'd like to get back to grain ships now.