Pack up the clothes

Take back the books and pack up the clothes

Take back the books

My next stop was Portland to stay with a great couple, Tom and Brian, who I had met in Provincetown when I was only a month into my trip. T had introduced us in P’Town where he seemingly knew everyone. It all seemed so long ago and we had chatted that much since P’Town I felt like I had known them for years. Tom had been a great supporter of my travels. He had regularly contacted friends of his in various places to help find me gays to stay with. My Memphis host was courtesy of Tom and his group of friends. They had been amazing and Tom was determined not to be outdone by the southern hospitality that had seen me take a private flight over Memphis, my own tour guide for the day and a dinner party in my honour.

  

I had been messaging Tom via Facebook during the train ride down from Seattle to keep him posted on my estimated arrival time. He seemed a surprised that the train had Wi-Fi. I suspect that he has never done public transport. Tom picked me up from the train station, arriving in his Land Rover. He told me was just to give me a reminder of home. We headed in to Portland, Tom giving me snippets of local information and a bit of a tour as we drove along. The train had arrived early evening so Tom suggested we grab some dinner before heading up to the house. We made our way to a place for a spot of Mexican food and a beer. A friend of Tom’s, Jose, who lived a couple of blocks away, joined us. Tom told me to explain to Jose why I was in Portland. I set about explaining the story with Tom jumping in to finish off my sentences every now and again. Jose sat and listened, the conversation afterwards generally revolving around that although I did manage to get a few questions in to find out a bit about Jose. He was a very sweet guy and as we were leaving he told me that if there was anything he could do to help me on my trip then to just let him know.  

My host, Tom

After dinner we drove up to Tom & Brian’s place. I was introduced to Bensen the dog, who was a huge softie. As Tom took me to the room where I would be staying we passed a large Nike poster on the wall. I had a vague recollection of seeing it before. It was from the 1980s I think, a guy bent over a tennis net. It wasn’t the usual poster that sometimes can be found on a gay man’s wall of a half naked fireman or sportsman. I looked at Tom and raised an eyebrow. He told me that it was his arse that I was looking at. I was most impressed. My latest host had a world famous bottom! He had kept that quiet when we had first met.

I settled myself in to my room then headed back upstairs. I asked Tom if it would be ok for me to do some laundry. I hadn’t done any since Isla Mujeres and was running low on clean clothes. He said that would be fine and then showed me how to use the rather space age looking washing machine. I had never seen one that looked so futuristic. I half expected it to talk to me. Having set my washing off we headed upstairs and both caught up on some admin. We were sat across the dining table on matching MacBooks. Tom showed me a clip on YouTube to give me an idea of what to expect from Portland. About an hour later Tom looked up from his screen and told me that my washing was done. I was taken aback and asked if the washing machine had sent an email saying it was done. He laughed and explained that he had just heard the buzzer on it go off. I felt rather stupid.

Bensen

Brian arrived home from work a little while later and gave me a great big hug. He asked me how my travels were going and where I had been since P’Town and I duly reeled of the list (Boston, Long Island, NYC, Nashville, Memphis, NOLA, Jacksonville, Atlanta, Fort Lauderdale, Shepherdstown (WV), Fort Lauderdale, Miami, Rio de Janiero, Buenos Aires, Santiago, Buenos Aires, Manzanillo, Isla Mujeres, Mexico City, Dallas-Fort Worth & Seattle for any new blog readers/forgetful types). I chatted to them both for a while and then decided to turn in for the night. They told me that Bensen would probably check up on me but he always slept with them. He followed me downstairs to check what I was doing and then curled up next to my bed. He was still there in the morning.

The first I did the following morning was go on to Skype to wish my sister a happy birthday. Given the time difference she was already home from work and about to celebrate with a couple of friends who had come round. I had only seen her less than 2 weeks ago but I felt a bit guilty I was missing her birthday. I was not so organised as to send a card while on my travels or even have one to give to her in Mexico. I had arranged for some flowers to be delivered to Mothers for her to bring round though.

Pack up the clothes

After chatting with my sister I showered and went to get ready. I opened my suitcase and looked at the clothes in there. I was suddenly overwhelmed with a rush of feelings that took me by surprise. As I looked at the clothes, the same clothes I had been wearing for the last 4 and a half months, I found myself saying, “I just can’t face wearing anything that is in here”. I sat there for a few minutes staring at everything, picked out a t-shirt and went upstairs. Tom was in the kitchen and he greeted me with a cheery good morning. I told him I needed to go shopping for clothes that morning as I had just nearly been in tears trying to decide what to wear. Tom laughed at me and said that was fine. He asked if I needed anything else apart from clothes. I told him that my first journal was nearly full and I wanted to get another couple of the same type so I would need a Barnes & Noble. I explained that I wanted them all to match. Good old OCD.

After breakfast Tom drove me to the nearest shopping area. We passed a Barnes & Noble on the way and called in there. I was in my determined shopper mode. I found the nearest employee and asked where they kept the journals. He pointed me in the right direction and asked if there was anything in particular I was looking for. I tried to explain the journal and made a very bad job of it (beige, with a yellow ribbon to mark your page and there is a flippy bit on the front cover to keep it closed was the description I gave). Luckily I found exactly what I was after, picked a couple up and went and paid.

From there we hit the clothes shops. Tom had an errand to do in the Apple Store, which was next to H&M where I picked up a new pair of jeans. I then hit Express to pick up some t-shirts to replace the other t-shirts in my case that had nearly reduced me to tears. I had a quick look round, took half a dozen t-shirts into the changing room, tried them on, headed back out of the changing room for another look round, picked up a shirt and then headed to the till. The whole operation had taken less than ten minutes. The boy behind the till who rang up my purchases was one of the campest people I had seen in a while. It was as though I was being served by Mr Humphries. He did everything apart from say “I’m free”. Having done my shopping I was a lot calmer and ready to explore Portland.

“Take back the books and pack up the clothes” 
Lyrics from Legally Blonde from the musical Legally Blonde