Portlanders

Every moment at Portland Ale House tends to be a classical moment. Every word, every gesture turns out to be a part of our little history. There isnt'n anything obvious there, anything worthless but the outside. And yesterday even the outside was plenty of things to say. Those students from Iowa have made the miracle: the beer, the meal and the laughs were filling the bar since very early. We met Teylor, a 20 year old cheerleader. I was talking to her for 15 minutes but then I started to feel really breathless... Neither because of her 20s, nor because of her cheerleaderness, but because of a lack of oxygen. I was sat in an inside corner and the air was not running around the place and scarcely filling my lungs. I had to go away, leave the cheerleader and sit in the corridor in order not to suffocate. From that moment on I was silent, looking at the interview my friends were doing to the girl. I've seen that scene a lot of times on the TV: a warm night in the savannah and a succulent prey being sorrounded by a pack of hungry predators. Once I was recovered, I decided to move in to milder latitudes. I sat with Sara, Majo, Alex and a couple from Iowa: a self-called dork girl and her very talkative parner. We had a very good time there, and it even improved when Elena and Guillermo dropped by. There were a lot of interesting conversations, laughs and promises. Guillermo didn't want to give me a birthday kiss and Elena gave me one extra because I said that a girl called Elena was the reason of the more legendary war the world has ever known. We discovered that the "petit mort" was the cigarrette moment, that sometimes sleeping is not that bad when sex is not possible or advisable, and also that thumbs has misterious erotic powers only known by Elena. Mike must be very happy with the success of his bar, by all means, and we share that happiness thoroughly because good things should last and never end. Portlanders forever!