Having been told throughout our time on the East coast that Portland was a wonderful city and party town, we decided early on to make it our destination for Halloween. Obviously us Brits don’t buy into this ‘holiday’ like the Americans, so we approached the festivities with trepidation. Right, a few things to note. When we met our couch surfing hosts the day before, we decided to adhere rigidly to social etiquette by purchasing a bottle of wine for the lovely ladies. This sounded like and opportunity for Andrew ‘I don’t know a f***ing thing about wine’ Heller to take the bull by the horns. I confidently graced the alcohol aisle of the supermarket. ‘Merlot’, I know that to be a tasty red. Alarmed that the only brand I’ve ever heard of (Jacobs Creek) didn’t seem to be available, I panicked and sent my chubby little right hand out to collect the cheapest bottle I could find. Mid way through the evening I noticed that the girls weren’t drinking. In fact, they hadn’t even finished their first glass. Dismissing them as either: (a) lightweights; or (b) human beings with taste buds, I continued to have a cracking time. It was only when I visited the kitchen just before bed time that I had an opportunity to conduct a more detailed examination of the bottle. Big big bold letters informed me that the wine was, in fact, unalcoholic. Course it wasn’t! Needless to say I haven’t yet managed to live it down. The maroon shade which seemed to be making its way across my face was partially extinguished when I heard that Ollie’s friend Yoyo had once done the same but with beer! A ridiculous error none the less.
We spent the daytime of Halloween searching the town for suitable costumes. Earlier in our travels I had had the idea to be dark Beatles (there are four of us after all) however we had had very little luck finding anything. Luckily for us, the very last costume shop that we tried had exactly what we were after (they cost an arm and a leg but they had them). We recreated as many album covers as we possibly could before taking to the town. The stereotype that chicks from the USA love the English accent is a falsity. It’s actually an understatement. Now dressed as the most iconic British musicians in history, surely the night had to be successful didn’t it?
First thing is first, we saw the best costume of all time as you can see from the attached picture). This photo doesn’t actually do it justice, the wings actually stretched the length of the whole bar! The next few hours played out like this. We got hideously drunk. Ben pulled a “beauty”. Ben disappeared with his “beauty” only to be brushed off at 3am 9my personal highlight was a passer by apparently asking him if he was supposed to be the artist formerly know as Prince). Our couch host disappears. As a cruel twist of fate Ollie finds her. She’s being very sick. Ollie does the altruistic/creepy/standard deed of returning her home. Kez and I party hard with some success. We’ve had enough of the bar. We walk down the road to the nearest house party we can find. We drink tequila until my gag reflex informs we it’s probably time to lay off it. We crash another house party. We return home. Wake up to find that Ben, in an attempt to get Ollie’s attention has actually crunched the window!
All in all, a brilliant night, we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves, Halloween (in our eyes at least), is an English national holiday.