I would say I’m surprised that Le Clown wanted to visit Portland, but I’m really not. There are two things that Portland has going for it that no other place does. First, it’s Portland. Second, I’m here. Case closed.
I asked Le Clown to give me a list of things he wanted to do while he was here. He included things like visiting Saturday Market, Voodoo Doughnut, Powell’s Books, and our plethora of food carts. How fucking urban of Le Clown.
I decided he needed to be taken outside of his element; no, literally, he needed to be taken outside. When has anyone ever seen Le Clown be outdoorsy save that one time he fed a horse on Fifth Avenue in New York. Even then he had his city panties on.
Upon arrival, he immediately wanted to have a little R&R. What did he think he was on, a vacation? This ain’t Club Med.
Him: “I am so le exhausted from the le plane ride. Can I take a le nap?”
Me: “Buck up sugar tits, we’re going kayaking.”
Me: “A kayak is like a penis you sit in and float down the river on. Very phallic and subtext-y. You’ll love it.”
He resisted at first, but eventually he was kayaking like a pro. We drifted down the river for hours talking about Le Clown, Le Clown’s magnificence, and how Le Clown is taking over WordPress one post at a time. I prodded him about White Baby Jesus, and why he hated the world’s greatest band, Rush.
As a reward for his cooperation, I took him to a food cart that serves Poutine. Upon tasting it, he screamed, “Sacré bleu! Merde!” The Americanized Poutine had clearly offended his refined tastes, and I needed to make it right. We went back to my place and I made him maple syrup-glazed moose topped with canadian bacon.
The next day we got up, and headed out for some hiking. He seemed a bit nervous upon reaching the trailhead, but I was very reassuring. “There are bears out here, but they think Canadians taste like Socialism so they won’t eat you.”
He must be a long lost von Trapp because he was navigating the mountain with ease in no time. We eventually came upon a lookout, and Le Clown climbed out on a ledge and shouted, “Yodelayheehoo!” I don’t think he gets how hiking works.
We went on down the trail, and stumbled upon a waterfall. We climbed down to the basin, and walked around it for a bit. Le Clown, never missing an opportunity to show off his camel ball, stripped down and let the waterfall rain down on his supple physique. A crowd eventually gathered, and I heard one onlooker proclaim, “This is better than that pool scene Phoebe Cates did in Fast Times at Ridgemont High!”
We rested up that night in anticipation of our beach excursion the next day. I was excited to show him a little piece of cinematic history. It was my way of bridging his urban sensibilities with my love of nature.
We then drove out to Haystack Rock which is also in the movie, in the opening scene. We walked down the beach until we were right up on its heels.
Him: “You’re right, this is impressive. Not as impressive as Nickelback, but what can be?”
Me: “I hope your next child looks like Chad Kroeger’s taint.”
On our last night together I decided to give Le Clown a taste of the city life. We ate at an award-winning restaurant, visited art galleries, and even went for a stroll along Tom McCall waterfront park. He was on such a high from the trip that he put on a performance at the bus stop on our way home.
I was sad to see him go, but glad I had the opportunity to bond with the always magnificent Le Clown. He was such a good sport about everything that he’s now an honorary Oregonian. Much better than being Canadian!
Au revoir my carnie comrade, until we meet again…