Chapter 1 - The Dregs.

When Brian Kinney and Justin Taylor arrived in the quaint rural town of Yamhill, Oregon, they just missed seeing each other by less than twenty minutes - although Justin didn’t know that yet. The romantic blond youth and his cohorts had actually arrived in Portland almost a day earlier, but they’d gotten distracted numerous times on their way to wine country. Justin was beginning to regret asking his two best friends, Daphne and Emmett, to join him on this little adventure. In fact, it was starting to look like this whole trip was going to be one gargantuan waste of time. At this rate he’d never manage to find the elusive and ever-desirable ‘Brian’. As he sat in the passenger seat of the compact economy rental car, listening to yet another local trying to give them directions to the Winery they were looking for by referencing ‘Old Bernie’s Barn’ and ‘The old Auto Parts store’ that had been closed for near on ten years, Justin’s mind drifted back in time to the moment that this whole mess began . . .

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“But . . . but . . . but, I thought he LOVED me,” Emmett sobbed for the tenth time as Daphne and Justin both patted him on the back ineffectually. “He said he only wanted to be with me. He wanted to take me away from all this and show me the fucking world, he said . . . He even bought these stupid tickets to Costa Rica, for fuck’s sake, and then what . . . the night before we’re supposed to leave he just has to go out and fuck some lame assed trick? And he didn’t even have the decency to do it someplace discreet! That’s what really fucking chaps my ass! He was fucking the guy in the back seat of MY car parked in the middle of Liberty Avenue! Can you fucking believe that?”

“No, Em, I can’t believe that and I couldn’t believe it the last twenty times you told us about it,” the younger blond man said, his tone indicating that, while he was still sympathetic, he was getting a little bit fed up with His buddy’s whining.

“Justin!” the equally young brunette woman sitting on the other side of the weeping Emmett admonished at the boy’s insensitivity. “Now, Em, you just need to cheer up, honey. We all agree that Calvin is a fucking prick who deserves to have his dick bitten off by the very next trick he talks into sucking him off. But, honey, you sitting here crying your eyes out isn’t going to help anything. We brought you out tonight to cheer you up, Em. We’re here to dance and drink and meet some NEW guys to help get your mind off that asswipe, Calvin. “ Daph handed the blubbering older queen a handful of paper napkins, “now, blow your nose, sweetie, and then go wash your face and fix your eyeliner and then we’ll dance until you’re happy again. Okay? Don’t worry, honey, someday we’ll all meet our princes.”

With a little bit more cajoling and sympathetic patting, Emmett was eventually convinced to retreat to the men’s room to get himself cleaned up.  Both Justin and Daphne heaved huge sighs of relief. Not that they didn’t feel bad for their friend, but since this was Emmett, it was really a pretty common occurrence and didn’t warrant too much serious compassion. It seemed like the big-hearted nelly-bottomed queen fell hopelessly in love every second tuesday of the month - followed regularly by the inevitable messy, crying breakup approximately five days later. The two teens knew that by the end of the night, Emmett would be back in his element, picking up another guy or two at the club and would be back to his usual happily effervescent self by the next morning.

While they were waiting for Em to return, the two friends headed out to the dancefloor of the already hopping nightclub, bopping along to the standard ‘thumpa thumpa’ beat until they found a relatively open spot where they could seriously start shaking their groove. Just as they started to get warmed up, the DJ switched over to a remix version of Lady Gaga’s ‘Born This Way’ that seemed to be a favorite of several of the people in the crowd. Everyone on the dancefloor started jumping up and down like popcorn kernels in a hot frying pan. Daphne squealed with glee at the new song, grabbed Justin’s arm and pulled him after her even deeper into the throbbing crowd of half-dressed sweaty dancers pulsating along to the beat of the music.

Justin let the strong beat of the music infiltrate his soul. It felt almost like the music was physically lifting him up and then dropping him down repeatedly. The enthusiasm of Daphne and the other dancers around him added to the almost weightless feeling as Justin let the music take over his body. Before long, the crowd wasn’t only hopping up and down, but also bouncing off each other as if they were all part of some giant pinball machine. Justin allowed his body to be carried along with the flow of the music as he ricocheted further and further across the lighted dance floor. At the moment of the final phrase of the song - I’m on the right track baby, I was born this way, hey! - the impassioned young man leapt higher than ever and at the apex of his jump was slammed backward by his neighbor into the the body of whoever happened to be standing right behind him at the time. Justin rebounded off the wall-like body and toppled back over face first with no way to stop himself.

About a foot before he hit the floor, two incredibly strong arms stopped Justin’s descent. When the youth craned his neck enough to look up at whoever had saved him, he caught a glimpse of the most beautiful man he’d ever imagined. The gorgeous stranger tightened his grip incrementally and then flipped Justin’s slighter body over so he was forced to look up into the magnetic eyes of the man who was still holding him.

“Let me guess, you didn’t mean to knock the shit out of me . . . you were just born that way - clumsy as fuck!” the Adonis said with a handsome smirk as he chuckled down at my completely disconcerted countenance.

“I . . . I . . . I’m sorry. Somebody else knocked into me and I lost my balance,” Justin stuttered, having to yell the last part of his explanation as the music for the next song was overlaid on the end of Lady Gaga and the volume crescendoed.

The tall hulking handsome man slowly helped Justin upright but seemed a little reluctant to let go of his grasp on the smaller blond man. Even when Justin was back on his own two feet, the man’s hands didn’t completely unwrap from their firm grip around the younger man’s biceps.  There was even a mischievous gleam in the dark-haired man’s eyes that struck a similar chord in Justin’s soul. Before the other man could release him and move off, Justin clutched at the only thing he could think of to try and keep the man with him for a little bit longer.

“Dance with me!” Justin shouted up at the man. “Let me make it up to you and prove that I’m not a complete klutz. And I’ll even buy you a drink after,” Justin offered, looking up from under his lashes and smiling his most enticing smile at the man he didn’t want to let go of.

The tall brunet hesitated for just a fraction of a moment, looking intently down into the face of the younger man still in his arms. With just a hint of a smile, the handsome stranger shook his head slightly but didn’t move away. Justin took the chance and accepted the response as at least tacit  agreement. Wrapping his arms around the taller man’s waist, Justin started to guide the man’s hips into a swaying motion as the sounds of Lifehouse’s ‘You and Me’ reached the chorus.

‘And it's you and me and all of the people,

And I don't know why I can't keep my eyes off of you’

The words seemed so prophetic. Now that Justin had seen this God amongst mere mortal men, he didn’t think it was possible for him to tear his eyes away for even the briefest of seconds. Justin realized that he was staring and probably looked like some idiotic love-struck schoolboy, but he just couldn’t help himself. THIS was the man he’d always dreamed of. The one who would ride in on his big white horse and rescue him from a life of drudgery. This man was a prince.

The man was looking down at Justin with amusement clear in his eyes. He wasn’t oblivious to the adoration being projected back at him from the hot little blond in his arms - Brian Kinney was used to that response from the majority of his tricks. But, there was something about this young man that seemed different. Maybe it was the kid’s overt innocence. That contrasted sharply with the ballsy arrogance he’d displayed when demanding that the older man dance with him. It was intriguing, if nothing else - fragile innocence combined with rock solid courage. It was a combination that proved attractive as hell. Which explained why Brian ‘Fucking’ Kinney was now dancing with some little blond twink that he normally wouldn’t have given a second look.

‘Something about you now, I can't quite figure out

Everything he does is beautiful. Everything he does is right . . .’

The rest of the club seemed to melt away into a hazy background. The two men swayed together, barely moving, Justin’s arms around the taller man’s neck and Brian’s hands resting lightly on the younger man’s hips. It was like that particular moment had slipped out of linear time altogether. They were the only people who existed at this singular moment. The bubble of music that surrounded them and kept all the rest of the world outside was all they could hear except for the beating of each others’ hearts. The taller man pulled the slighter boy’s body even closer to his own, sensuously pressing their hips together and relishing the heat that radiated back at him from the hard package of the man in his embrace. It was the single most intimate moment that either man had ever experienced and it didn’t matter in the least that it was happening in the midst of a crowded dance club with hundreds of others around to watch.

“There you are, Bri! Sorry to interrupt but we’ve got a fucking emergency.” The jarring words unceremoniously ripped apart the bubble of harmony in which the two men had been lost during their dance.

“Fuck, Ted,” the tall brunet turned toward the small mousey-looking man with more than evident irritation. “Can’t you see that I’m a little busy at the moment? I know it’s been ages since you got any yourself, but even you should be able to recognize that when I’m with a trick I don’t want to be disturbed. Now, go back to your little accountancy hole and leave me and my new friend here alone.”

“I’d love to, Brian, but I just got a call from Cynthia. There’s an emergency with the Winery account,” Ted was yelling at the top of his lungs to get his meaning across over the top of the loud club music.

“Theodore, what the fuck emergency could there be with a bunch of winos off in bum-fucked Oregon? Can’t you and Cynthia handle it?” Justin’s dance partner yelled back, his left hand not leaving the small of Justin’s back even as he addressed the man who’d disturbed them.  

“Not this time, Bri. Cynthia got a fax telling her that they want you and your presentation at some big meeting the Winegrower’s Association is having in three days in ‘Yamhill, Oregon’.”

“Three fucking days! That campaign isn’t even close to being ready. How the fuck are we supposed to have it ready in three days and get to the middle-of-nowhere-Oregon to boot? Shit!”

“That’s what I thought you’d say, Brian,” Ted smirked somewhat apologetically.

“Call in the entire team, Theodore. We’re going to have to work all night on this. I’ll meet you back at the office in fifteen minutes,” the authoritative man directed even as his employee started to trot away to get everything taken care of. “Now, my little ray of sunshine,” Brian turned back to the young blond he still hadn’t completely let go of. “I’m afraid that I’ll have to take a rain check on the rest of our evening. It’s too bad, really . . . you would have fucking loved it!”

Without warning, the taller man swooped down over the shorter young blond and, with his left arm behind the youth’s shoulders holding him up, his lips drove into Justin’s, causing him to dip backwards, deeper and deeper as the breathless kiss went on and on. Just about the time when Justin started to get dizzy from the combined lack of oxygen and overwhelming romanticism, the large man pulled back, smiled down at the helpless teen almost swooning in his arms and chuckled quietly. With one effortless movement, the older man pulled them both back upright and gently patted the younger man’s soft cheek with the palm of his right hand.

“Later, Sunshine,” the magnificent man whispered as he leaned in leaving one last light kiss on the soft pale cheek of the little twink.

Then, without looking back, the man/prince/god swaggered away and was quickly swallowed up by the crowd as Justin stood there completely dumbfounded. “Later!” he finally yelled, about five minutes too late and then shook himself, not sure if what he’d just experienced had really happened or was just another - really, really great - fantasy.

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"Justin. Justin? Justin, wake the fuck up!" Daph giggled and threw a couple Cheerios into her friend's face, interrupting his third bout of day-dreaming just since they'd started eating breakfast. "What the hell is with you this morning, Jus? I know that neither of us got much sleep last night, what with Em and his Rebound-Boy-Toy-#324 pounding the headboard of Em's bed against the wall all night, but enough already. Snap out of it."

"Sorry, Daph. I was just . . . um . . . what were you saying," Justin's blushing face was a sure fire giveaway that the nature of whatever he'd been thinking about was probably XXX rated.

His fag hag laughed at Justin's evasion but decided to let him get away with it this time. "I was trying to get your opinion of what we should do with our long weekend. Since we don't have school on Monday, I was thinking we should go somewhere fun and just get the hell out of the Pitts for a few days. What do you think?"

"I think it's a fabulous idea," Emmett declared as he flounced out of his room wearing his favorite red and black silk kimono that just barely covered all his important parts. "So, do either of you want to come to Costa Rica with me for a week?" Em flung the tickets he was supposed to be using this afternoon with the now-dumped Calvin onto the kitchen table, where they landed in a puddle of milk next to Justin's cereal bowl.

"Sorry, Em," Daphne said as she rescued the plane tickets before they became completely soggy from the milk. "Jus and I only have three days, not a whole fucking week, and no offense, but spending a week holed up at a gay couples' resort in the middle of the jungle listening to you moan about how rotten Calvin was to you, doesn't sound like much of a vacation."

"You're right there, sweetie," Emmett admitted, flopping dejectedly down into the chair next to Daph. "It seems a shame to waste these tickets though . . . "

"You should trade them in and go someplace else, Em," Daphne suggested. "Someplace fun. Someplace with lots of beautiful, rich, half-naked men who are all just waiting to fall in love with the man, or woman, of their dreams."

Daphne, the hopeless romantic, gazed off into space, looking into her dreams of the perfect fantasy vacation where she'd meet her very own Prince Charming - wherever the hell that mythical place might happen to be. Justin and Emmett watched her for several seconds and then both men cracked up with laughter over the sickly sweet romanticism of their completely delusional friend. Justin threw a handful of Cheerios back at his friend and Emmett slapped her not so softly upside the head in rebuke.

"Dream on, Sister!" Emmett chided Daphne until she even laughed at herself. "When you find that perfect place, just let me know and I'll be on the first plane there. But, in the meantime, I still don't know what to do with these stupid tickets."

"I'm serious, Em," Daphne insisted, dropping the starry-eyed look and putting on her serious thinking look. "You really should cash them in and go someplace else. Live a little, why don't you? Go someplace you've always wanted to visit. Take a chance. Go someplace off the beaten track. You never know what will happen. You know, take the path less travelled, and all that shit. Maybe you WILL find your prince after all. Maybe he's been waiting for you all along in say . . . Miami, or Chicago, or maybe . . . I don't know . . . fucking Disney Land. . ."

"Or, maybe, Yamhill, Oregon," Justin added from his spot at the table, his voice hushed as if he hadn't really meant to make the suggestion out loud.

"Huh?" Daphne and Emmett both said at the same time, looking over at Justin as if he'd just suggested something completely insane, like taking a vacation on the moon or something.

"You feeling okay, Justin, baby?" Emmett asked, his concerned voice snapping Justin out of a moment of private reverie and causing the younger man to blush furiously. "What the fuck is in 'Squash-fucking-hill'?"

"It's 'Yamhill', Em, and they have wine, I-I-I think, and . . . a guy, maybe . . . " Justin stuttered, not sure why he was confessing anything to these two doubting thomases. "A really, really HOT guy . . ."

Twenty minutes later, Justin had been forced to fully disclose his chance meeting on the dance floor the night before with the handsome prince, known only as 'Brian' who was destined to be found in a little wine town in Oregon.

Emmett, who'd been around Liberty Avenue a lot longer than his younger friends, had an idea about just who this beautiful 'Brian' might be, and was all ready to dissuade the more naive Justin from pursuing the well-known local lothario. "You know, honey, I doubt that some guy you literally bumped into at Babylon is gonna turn out to be a Prince. I've already personally sampled a fair share of what's on offer there and I have to say there's not a Prince in the bunch. Even the ones that aren't complete trolls mostly turn out to be frogs, baby."

"You're probably right, Em," Justin admitted, turning back to his now soggy bowl of cereal. "Besides, I'm sure a guy that looks like that wouldn't be interested in me, anyway. Shit, he could fuck anyone he wanted. Even if I did get his attention for a minute or two, he probably just wanted to get into my pants, like all the rest, and then he would have blown me off like the guy I hooked up with last weekend. And the weekend before that. And the weekend . . ."

"Shit, Justin!" Daphne wasn't about to let her friend continue down the slippery slope of self pity he seemed to be headed towards. "You're too young to be that fucking cynical. You're not exactly a troll yourself. Any guy would be lucky to find you. You just have to show them what you're really like, you know? I'm sure this 'Brian' guy would fall totally head over heels for you if he took the time to get to know you . . ."

Daphne kept ranting on, her only objective being to bolster her best friend's faltering self esteem. She didn't really take any notice of Emmett waving to her from behind Justin's back or making chopping motions at his neck to try and get her to cut it off. How was Daphne supposed to know the the 'Brian' her friend was lusting after was NOT the kind of guy who'd turn into a prince after the first kiss and then romantically sweep little Justin off into the sunset? All Daph knew was that her friend was the kindest, sweetest man in the world and she wasn't going to let him mope about over some missed opportunity with a beauty he'd bounced into on the dance floor.

"You know what, Justin? You're completely right - maybe your prince really is waiting for you in some unlikely place like . . . what was it? Yamhill, Oregon? We should go there and find out!" Daphne had let her innate enthusiasm totally run away with her by this point and there wasn't any hope of stopping her. "You said the guy was going to have to be there for some important winery meeting in three days, right? Well, we don't have anyplace else we have to be until Tuesday, so . . . why don't we go and crash their meeting? Em and I will come with you and we'll all go to Oregon and find your prince!"

"But, but, but, Daphne . . ." Emmett was still trying to derail the spontaneous vacation train that his friend was on, but she had her engines fully stoaked and wasn't about to slow down to see reason.

"That's just silly, Daph," luckily Justin seemed as adverse to the idea as Em was. "A guy like that isn't going to simply fall in love with me just because I decide to stalk him all the way across the country. Besides, I don't even know where the fuck, Yamhill, Oregon is or where to find Brian even if we did go there."

"You are sooooo, right, sugar," Em was quick to offer agreement. "It would just be a silly wild goose chase."

"No it wouldn't, Em," Daphne countered from her speeding vacation train of thought. "How big can a place called 'Yamhill' be? We just go there and ask for directions to the local winery and, voila, we're there. It'll be a piece of cake! And, Justin, how do you know that this guy wouldn't fall madly, passionately in love with you? He might get turned on by the mere fact that you were willing to chase him all that way? I know I'd be totally flattered. Besides, we don't have anything better to do this weekend, right?"

"If nothing else, it'll be an adventure. Please? Please, Em, please. You're not going to do anything else with those tickets and you know it!" Daphne insisted, turning on the older man in order to get his support. "They're expensive seats and all - I'm sure we could cash them in for more than enough to get us all three tickets to Oregon and back. It'll be fun! Come on, Em. Please? You can't just let poor Justin here sit around all weekend long moping after some hot guy he almost caught, can you? Please!"

Emmett felt trapped. Even knowing what he did - assuming that the beautiful 'Brian' his friend had encountered at the club was who he thought and therefore the last man he'd want his romantic friend running after - how could he say 'No' to Daphne's pleading or Justin's hesitant hopefulness. If it was Brian Fucking Kinney they were pursuing, this endeavor was doomed to failure from the start. But he looked at the faces of his two younger friends, their eyes sparkling up at him with expectation, and he just couldn't dash all their romantic dreams like that.

"You guys know this is fucking insane, right?" Em tried one last time to deter them. When neither of the sad, expectant little faces relented even a tiny bit, he gave up.

"Fine. Whatever . . . It's completely crazy, but . . . Well, go on. You two better hurry and get packed. We have a plane to catch to Oregon!"

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Unfortunately, it turns out you can't get to Yamhill, Oregon from Pittsburgh. It took three different airline reps on their computers for more than fifteen minutes to even find the place for the tired yet intrepid explorers. However, the tiny burg of Yamhill WAS eventually found on some obscure map and then two additional reps were called over to conference about ways to get the travelers there. It became very complicated and Justin, Emmett and Daphne all lost interest in the intricate machinations of the travel industry long before their route was finally determined by the 'Experts'. However, eventually, they were booked onto a flight from Pittsburgh to Denver with a connection into Portland, Oregon. That was the closest the commercial airlines could get them. After that, they'd have to rent a car for the final leg of the journey to the little town about an hour and a half southeast of Portland.

By the time their travel arrangements were finalized, the trio had barely enough time to make it through the security check area and get to the gate before the first leg of their flight started to board. Because of their late timing, there was no way they could get three seats together. All three unanimously agreed to let Emmett have the one open seat in the business class section where he could at least stretch out his long lanky legs. That meant, however, that Daphne got squashed into the seat between the two overly-talkative Denver businessmen and Justin got the last seat in the back of the plane, sandwiched up against the window along with a young family traveling with a very excited toddler. Luckily, Justin liked children. Unluckily, the child in question developed a bit of motion sickness in the turbulent skies just east of Denver and lost his Happy Meal all over Justin's lap about twenty minutes before they landed.

Having been stuck in the very last row of seats on the airplane, Justin was unfortunately the very last person to deboard the plane when their flight landed in Denver. Emmett and Daphne were impatiently waiting for him just outside the gate - they only had a little over a half hour at this point to get all the way to another terminal in order to catch their connecting flight to Portland, Oregon. The mother of the toddler who’d upchucked on him during the flight was still apologizing as Daphne pulled Justin away and the three started jogging down the terminal towards the tram that would take them across the airport to their next flight.

They made it to the Tram that connected the two terminals just as the doors were starting to close and managed to slip into the crowded train car. The ride between terminals was fairly short. However, it wasn’t short enough as far as Daphne and Emmett were concerned - any time at all spent shoved that closely up against Justin and his vomit cover shirt was too long! The boy reeked! Not only did his two friends shuffle as far away from him as they could, but everyone else in the tram did as well. Justin was so embarrassed that his blush was almost purple before they could all escape the small enclosed space and get some fresh air.

“I’m not wearing this shirt for another two and a half fucking hours crammed into another tiny airplane seat,” Justin insisted adamantly as he trotted after his friends who were intent on getting to the next gate as quickly as possible.

“Sorry, Justin, but there’s no time to get you something different to wear and all our luggage was already checked through to Portland,” Daph hollered over her shoulder without losing a step. “You’re going to have to just grin and bear it.”

“No fucking way!” Justin was definite on this point. “There’s a souvenir shop,” he pointed to the little kiosk-type shop that was just ahead of them. “I’ll pop in there, get a new shirt and meet you on the plane.”

“Hurry, Baby!” Emmett shouted without stopping to wait for his friend.

As Justin skidded to a halt by the front of the souvenir kiosk, the overhead speakers announced the final boarding call for his flight to Portland. Fortunately, there was a rack of souvenir Colorado t-shirts right next to the register - all of them on sale for 50% off, to boot. Without bothering to look at the shirt except to note it was the right size, Justin grabbed the closest shirt, tossed a twenty dollar bill at the clerk behind the register and took off full tilt for the gate. He just barely managed to barrel into the boarding area right before the flight attendant was moving to shut the door. She tolerantly held the door with an almost-smile for the latecomer and calmly checked the young man’s boarding pass before letting him proceed down the jetway to the plane.

As he walked the length of the long jetway, Justin pulled off the soiled and stinking shirt and slipped on the newly purchased souvenir shirt. He left the old shirt in the trashbin at the end of the jetway, shaking his head at the loss of one of his favorite t’s, but unwilling to travel with the smelly thing and certain he’d never be able to get the stains out anyway. The harassed traveler still didn’t have time to look at the new shirt he was wearing though, since the flight attendant waiting for him just at the door was waving at him to hustle. He tugged the shirt over his head, getting it mostly straight as he tripped over the porthole door and was quickly guided back to his seat next to Daphne and Em.

Justin had barely finished hoisting his carry on bag into the overhead bin before he was greeted with an uproar of laughter from his supposed friends. “What?” an exasperated Justin demanded as he slumped into the aisle seat that his buddies had left open for him.

*Hehehe* Daphne, who had the middle seat, couldn’t hold back her giggles. “Really, Justin? How’s your ass been?” she asked with another freshet of laughter.

“What are you talking about, Daph? My fucking ass is none of your business, you freak. What’s got into you two.” Justin complained as he buckled up his seatbelt.

“Your shirt, Justin . . . How’s your ‘Aspen’? You COULDN’T come up with anything even a little more appropriate?” Em asked as he pointed towards the slogan on the souvenir t-shirt that Justin was now sporting.

“Oh . . . fuck,” Justin mumbled as he looked down and read his new shirt’s logo upside down. It was just his luck that the one shirt he managed to pull off the sale rack in the gift store was exactly the WRONG shirt for any self-respecting gay boy to wear. “I didn’t see what it said . . . Shit!”

That comment just elicited more hooting and guffawing from the peanut gallery as Justin scowled at his two FORMER friends in an effort to get them to shut the fuck up.

The entire rest of the two-and-a-half-hour flight consisted of a stream of veiled, and not-so-veiled, jokes about Justin’s ass. Each of the flight attendants managed to get at least a couple snide remarks in as they passed. The nearby passengers overhear the comments and couldn’t help but chime in. Then, most annoyingly, the overweight twelve-year-old boy sitting across the aisle two rows up caught on to the joke and kept yelling over the intervening seats every ten minutes at Justin as he grew more and more flustered!

At first Justin tried to explain away his highly inappropriate T-shirt:

“I’ve never actually been to Aspen . . .”

“It’s just a joke T-shirt, really . . .”

“Sorry, I didn’t notice what the shirt said when I put it on . . .”

After a bit, Justin got tired of trying to apologize for his tasteless, but desperately needed, apparel and moved on to more witty rejoinders every time he was asked, ‘How’s Your Aspen?’:

“My Aspen’s just fine, thanks for asking. How’s yours?”

“Tight and Hot! How’s your Aspen?”

“My Aspen’s dragging, I really could use a vacation.”

“My Aspen’s kinda vacant lately - I guess tourist season is over, right?”

“Got any Preparation H?”

“My Aspen’s great, but yours looks like it could use some work.”

Finally, Justin gave up any attempts to be civil at all. He’d had more than enough stupid innuendos for the day and wasn’t inclined to be nice anymore. The comebacks started to get nastier and more pointed:

“My Aspen’s annoyed enough for one day, so just fuck off!”

“It stinks, actually. I really need a fucking shower!”

Finally, as they were getting off the plane, Justin simply couldn’t take it anymore. As they exited through the plane’s porthole door, the ground crew member who was there to assist the passengers had the misfortune to ask one more time ‘How’s Your Aspen?’ It was simply too much for the beleaguered young man.

“MY ASS is out of your league. Leave me alone you fucking troll,” Justin shrieked as he rudely knocked aside the teasing man and stomped furiously down the jetway into Portland International Airport.

Daphne and Emmett had long since stopped poking the beast and were quietly following Justin down the concourse towards the baggage claim area. They weren’t about to mention his shirt again - they both valued all their appendages and didn’t want to give Justin any further justification to abbreviate any of their favorite parts.

Downstairs at the baggage carousel, the trio waited around while the rest of the bags for their flight came in. It was a rather long process. Portland International wasn’t that big of an airport, but it seemed to take an inordinate amount of time for the bags to start arriving. Then, slowly, the flight’s luggage started to drop down onto the carousel one piece at a time.  Fifteen minutes later, there had been a plethora of different suitcases, duffle bags, boxes and totes deposited on the spinning baggage carousel, but . . .  but not the bags of the three weary Pittsburgh passengers.

When it was finally evident that their bags weren’t going to be arriving with the rest, the troupe trudged over to the official ‘Customer Service Desk’ with their baggage claim tickets in hand. After a lengthy and incomprehensible period of clicking and clacking on various computers and coded conversations between various Customer Service Professionals - aka, the sorry fucks who were stuck on baggage claim detail - it was finally determined that the luggage for the three Pittsburgh passengers had be inadvertently left on the tarmac back in Denver. With copious apologies, the airline personnel promised that the bags would be on the next plane and would be delivered directly to their hotel as soon as possible.

The only problem with that scenario was that they hadn’t yet reserved any hotel room.

They scrambled. They fretted. They talked to at least twenty different, unhelpful airline reps who sent them scurrying to various desks throughout the airport. There were at least three trips via shuttle buses back and forth between terminals. They were repeatedly shuffled aside to sit on various chairs, benches, and other completely uncomfortable shaped-plastic surfaces while their situation was discussed interminably by many different people - none of whom cared a whit what the fuck happened to the three economy-class passengers stranded without their luggage. After a very unproductive hour or so, Daphne had finally had enough. She randomly picked a hotel out the of the directory at the Customer (NON) Service Desk and dialed the phone number. Ten minutes later, the trio had a room at the Portland Marriott which she strong-armed the airline rep to pay for for the night while they cooled their heels and waited for their luggage. Accommodations - check!

Then the three friends headed off to the rental car agency to pick up the car they had reserved for their trip so they could finally make their weary way to the waiting hotel.

Did anyone think that this final step of the process would be easy? If you did, you were severely naive and deluded. Dealing with the rental car agency was only marginally less annoying than dealing with the airline itself. Of course, the car they had reserved via the internet just that morning was MIA - what else? After prolonged discussion, it became apparent that the car they had reserved hadn’t been turned in on time so they were left without wheels.

Much scrambling ensued over the following thirty minutes without measurable results until . . .

“Sir, we just got another economy rental turned in early. It hasn’t been fully cleaned, but if you really want to get out of here quickly, we can just do a quick spot check and it’ll be all yours,” the cooperative rental clerk offered.

The travelers were too tired to worry about how clean their rental car was at this point. Emmett, who happened to be the only person above the age the rental agency would allow to rent their vehicles, immediately signed all the documents and then the group was ushered out to the garage where they were shown to the economy-subcompact that was being provided for their *AHEM*  comfort.

The trio was more than happy to get on the road and away from the airport. They didn’t mind in the least that there was a bit of trash on the floor in the backseat or that there were food wrappers in the refuse. Granted, the car didn’t have the same, just-from-the-factory fresh scent that they expected from the average rental car, but at this point in their travels, the three were simply happy to have transportation. They followed the map given to them by the rental agency, driving along the impersonal interstate towards their hotel in downtown Portland.

As they got closer to downtown, the traffic seemed to be getting heavier, which seemed rather odd since it was well after the traditional ‘rush hour’. Even though they were exhausted from a full day of travelling after being out far too late the night before, Emmett plowed on, trying to keep everyone in good spirits, and they eventually came to the turn off for downtown. Following the directions given to them by the rental agency, they were headed towards the setting sun on what appeared to be a fairly major thoroughfare called ‘Powell Boulevard’ when the cars around them began to start and stop, apparently at random.

Then, out of nowhere, a flesh-toned streak on a wildly careening bicycle sped past their car, threading in and out of the traffic on the other side of the street with a seeming death wish. Emmett was busy negotiating the traffic and avoiding a fender-bender as all the nearby traffic came to a reckless halt. Justin and Daphne, though, were rubbernecking along with all the rest of the bystanders, watching as first one and then more bicyclists came bombing down the steep street and zooming through the cars on the eastbound side of the street. Looking back over their shoulders, Justin and Daph saw that there was a banner erected across the street facing the direction from which the bike riders were approaching that read, “Keep Portland Weird”. As the pair was reading this enigmatic statement, another rider just happened to zoom by, pumping his fist in the air as he crossed the invisible ‘finish-line’ under the banner.

“Uh, Justin . . .” Daphne started to stutter a comment but was interrupted by another rider - this time on the west-bound side of the street, which meant that the pedalling person passed directly by the side of their own car. This rider wasn’t moving at anywhere near the speed of the first few that had ridden by, so the whole car full of travellers got a much better view this time. And what a view they got! The woman rider in question slowed down as she passed by just enough to slap hands with a couple of fans standing in the street. That wasn’t really so out of the ordinary, though. What WAS a bit different was that the bicyclist was stark naked.

While the car sat in complete gridlock, not moving at all, the three Pittsburgh natives stared in amazement at the now teeming hordes of nude bikers zooming down the hills in front of them and weaving around the stationary vehicles. The mostly nude riders were all apparently having a great time, smiling and waving at the spectators from their various odd shaped and sized bikes. Nobody seemed in the least shocked at the riders’ lack of clothing. On the street corner in front of them, a group of ordinary, overweight, middle-aged bystanders were cheering on racers with ear-splitting smiles. The racers themselves came in every shape and size - male, female, young, old (and even very, very old in a couple of cases), fat, thin, all races and ages. Most of them appeared to have various amounts of elaborate body paints on them. There were flags and banners and political statements painted on torsos. There were also some of the weirdest and most imaginative bicycles that the easterns had ever seen. It was truly an eye-opening welcome to the city of Portland.

As one especially nice looking nude biker passed them by on an extra-tall, three-wheeled bike all lit up with glow sticks, Emmett could no longer restrain himself. He quickly rolled down his window and shouted out at the top of his voice, “How’s YOUR Aspen, Honey?” causing all of the car’s occupants to erupt in uncontrollable laughter.

They were all still giggling and chortling fifteen minutes later when the stream of bikers finally ended and the traffic resumed its normal course, allowing them finally to make it all the way to their hotel.

☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂

The sound of someone pounding loudly on the door to their room woke all three travelers up the next morning far earlier than they would have liked while being on vacation. All three of them groaned and then rolled over, hoping someone else would get up and answer the door. Of course, the knock, knock, knocking didn’t stop.

“Justin . . . Justin, Baby, since this is your adventure, I think you should have to see who’s at the door,” Emmett ordered as he pulled another pillow over his head to try to block out the sound.

“Mmmrrrphhhhh,” Justin replied, trying in vain to pull the blankets that Daphne had stolen in the middle of the night back over himself.

*Knock, Knock, KNOCK*

The person trying to get their attention on the other side of the door was apparently getting a little impatient.

“Jus . . Justin . . . JUSTIN!” Daphne finally got her friend’s attention by poking her cold, pointy toes into Justin’s ribs and eventually kicking him off the queen-sized bed they were sharing together.

“Owww! Daphne! Fuck, I’m going. I’m going. Just keep those ice cubes you call feet away from me,” Justin complained as he unfolded himself from the heap he’d landed in on the floor and then crawled around the foot of the bed.

The not-yet-completely-awake young man managed to get all the way to his feet by the time he reached the hotel room door. Tugging his tidy-whitey briefs a little higher up his hips and absently scratching at his belly, Justin finally managed to undo the night security latch and pull open the door. The overweight sweaty man waiting on the other side of the door didn’t seem impressed at all with Justin’s lack of clothing or his cute twinky bod. The older man sneered down at the youth and just shoved a clipboard with some papers on it into Justin’s face.

“I got three suitcases here from Liberty Air for Taylor, Chanders and Honeycutt. You got some ID on you, kid,” the burly and surly guy drawled without preface or greetings.

“Uh . . . yeah, hold on,” Justin blinked a few times to try and clear his head in order to remember where he’d left his wallet. Tripping over the piles of randomly strewn dirty clothing left on the floor, Justin finally found his wallet on the dresser and brought his ID back to the luggage delivery guy for inspection.

“Okay. Looks fine - sign here, here and  . . . here. . .” the delivery guy directed, flipping papers in Justin’s face without bothering to explain what the fuck he was signing, let alone giving him time to read anything. “Thanks. Liberty Air apologizes for any inconvenience you’ve had and wishes you a great stay here in Portland,” the man added by rote, not even trying for sincerity, starting to walk away even before the phrase was all the way out of his mouth.

Justin picked up his dufflebag and Daph’s light weekender bag from where the delivery guy had left them in the hallway, while he kicked Em’s bigger, ‘Queen-sized’, hard-sided fifteen-ton suitcase inside with his feet. He was so thankful to finally have his bag so that he wouldn’t have to wear that tacky ‘Aspen’ T-shirt anymore, Justin almost immediately forgot the rude delivery man and his too-early wake up. Pulling out a fresh pair of jeans and a shirt free of both toddler-vomit and inappropriate sayings, he made his way to the bathroom so he could get first dibs on a morning shower.

Combined, it took the group almost an hour to get everyone up, dressed and showered, mostly thanks to Emmett’s last minute fashion crisis - what did one wear to go driving in Wine Country? - but eventually they all made it out of the room on their way to breakfast. They fully intended to make the most of the comp’ed breakfast the airline was paying for at the hotel’s restaurant before they headed off for the day, so that was their obvious first stop. While they were waiting for their food, Daphne had her laptop up and running so they could map out their drive. Justin was doodling on his sketchpad, supposedly acting as a secretary of sorts, and making notes about what everyone proposed.

The drive from downtown Portland to Yamhill - according to the computer - should only take about two hours, tops. They still had one more day until the Wine Association meeting that Justin had overheard his dream guy talking about. Until then, the man could be anywhere. So, since they had a whole day to kill, the trio figured they would take take their time getting down to Yamhill and see as many local sights as they could along the way. After getting input from their server, the restaurant’s hostess, and a whole table full of native Portlanders sitting not far from them, the group decided on a leisurely route that would take them past several historical sights looping them through some reportedly gorgeous countryside and ending them up in a place called McMinvillle, Oregon - which they were told was the only place with a hotel close to Yamhill.

With their itinerary settled, the group devoured the rest of their breakfast before heading back up to the room to pack and set off on their grand adventure. They were almost to the elevator when Justin discovered he’d left his sketchpad back at the table in the restaurant. The young artist left the others to get started packing while he darted back to reclaim his book. Luckily, the kind waiter was already halfway to the door with his sketchpad in hand as Justin neared the restaurant. They smiled at each other without words as they handed off the lost and found item.

Justin was spinning around back towards the elevators when out of the corner of his eye, he saw a glint of sunlight highlighting a perfectly coiffed mane of auburn hair, right outside the main entrance to the hotel. He almost tripped over a large potted plant in his effort to get to the big plate-glass window just in time to see the man he’d flown across the country to find getting into a big black Lincoln Towncar. As soon as the gorgeous man sat down and the car door slammed shut, the beam of rare Oregon sunlight disappeared, as if Brian had taken his personal spot light with him. Justin could only sigh as he watched the car pull away from the curb and get lost in traffic.

At least Justin knew he was on the right track!

☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂

The first stop on the Pittsburgher’s tour of Oregon was Oregon City - the first Capital of the Oregon Territory and the official end of the Oregon trail in the 1840’s and 1850’s. Besides being a busy suburb of Portland itself, Oregon City was mostly famous for the large waterfall that the city had been built beside. Before a series of locks was built, this was the highest a boat could go upriver into Oregon. It was the territorial capital where all the pioneers came to file their land or mining claims, it was the biggest city in the territory for years and boasted the biggest lumber mills in the area, all run by the falls. It was also where the locals said that the more scenic portion of their drive would start. So, maps in hand, the easterners headed south from downtown Portland in their little compact rental car.

For springtime in the usually cloudy Pacific Northwest, it was unusually sunny and bright as they headed out. There was only room in the car’s tiny trunk compartment for Em’s huge suitcase and Daphne’s weekender bag. Emmett insisted on driving and Daphne had appointed herself the navigator which left Justin without a specific job description and therefore, unfortunately, both Justin and his dufflebag were cramped into the very tiny back seat.

The rather messy rental car smelled even less fresh this morning than it had last night on the short trip from the airport. Justin, being sandwiched in the back seat, where most of the trash from the prior occupants had been deposited, was getting the brunt of the unpleasant aroma. Now that he was wearing fresh duds, he couldn’t blame the smell on his stained travel clothes either. It wasn’t so bad when the window was rolled down, but as soon as they got onto a large stretch of highway, Daphne demanded that he close the window because it was blowing her hair around.

“Ughhhh! Justiiiiinnnnnn,” Daphne complained about five minutes after the window was rolled closed. “Gross! At least warn us before you go stinking up the whole car next time.”

“Ha ha! It wasn’t me, Daphne,” Justin tried to argue.

“Well, if it wasn’t you, then tell your stinky invisible friend sitting back there with you to quit it with the farting,” Emmett added, his own nose comically crinkled up as the odor inside the small car grew more intense.

“Fuck you, Em. It’s not me,” Justin demanded, sitting up and starting to sniff around in order to try to find the source of the smell and prove it wasn’t him. “What the fuck IS THAT?’

“Your moldy ass?” teased Daphne from her spot in the front, as she also started to squirm around looking for whatever was causing the ruckus.

“It’s not MY ass! Remember, my Aspen’s just fine,” Justin shot back even as he started to winnow through the trash on the floor of the back seat. “Maybe the guys that rented this heap before us left their moldy asses in here or something, though, cause you’re right it smells like a particularly unclean ass after a long night in the backroom of Babylon.”

“Ewwwwww!” was the general chorus at this too-descriptive comment.

Justin was now out of his seatbelt and digging around under the driver’s seat. Daphne was trying to help by climbing over the passenger seat and holding out a plastic shopping bag she’d found by her own feet so that Justin could dump the trash he excavated. Emmett was trying to keep his eyes on the road while simultaneously getting poked in the side of the head by Daph’s elbow and having random pieces of trash thrown into his face.

“So, what do you call a person who doesn’t ever fart in public,” Emmett felt he was being left out and therefore had to add in the requisite bad joke. “A private Tooter! Hah! Get it?”

Justin and Daphne groaned in unison, not only at the joke but because it was right at that point that Justin unearthed a plastic bag from under the seat that was clearly the source of all the bad smells.

“Oooohhhhhhh! That’s foul!” Emmett screamed, the car swerving as he looked over his shoulder to see what the other two had found.

“Keep your eyes on the road, Em,” Daphne yelled, toppling over into her seat upside down when Em jerked the steering wheel in order to right the car.

Unfortunately, at the same moment, Justin also toppled over and whatever he’d been holding in his hands tipped just enough so that something wet dribbled out of the corner of the plastic bag and down the back of Emmett’s neck.

“Aaaaaaaaaa!” Emmett convulsed with another scream as he almost jumped out of the seat. The car careened wildly into the oncoming lane for about thirty seconds until Daphne managed to grab ahold of the wheel. Justin, who was trying to maintain his balance while not dropping whatever was in the malodorous bag, was jostled again, this time towards the other side of the car, allowing a large dollop of gooey brown gelatinous mess to leak out of the bag into Daphne’s hair this time. Daphne had let go of the steering wheel now as well and was violently trying to pull her hair out to get away from the ‘Eau de Moldy Ass’ scent.

With a movie worthy scream, Emmett looked up right at that moment and saw the oncoming semi-truck barrelling down on them. He jerked the wheel hard to the right, and then slammed on the brakes, stopping the car just as it brushed up against the metal guard rail at the edge of the road overlooking a rather steep drop off down towards a rushing river. Justin, of course, flew forward, landing head first in Daphne’s lap while the bag of grossness splatted all over the inside of the windshield, the goop inside ricocheting off the glass and dripping all over everyone.

When the car finally came to a complete halt and everyone looked up, all three were covered from head to foot with some goopy, smelly, brown glop. They gingerly crawled their way out of the car through the driver’s side door since the passenger’s side was snug up against the metal railing. Shaking their limbs to try and get most of the muck off, they all stood staring at each other on the side of the highway as other traffic zoomed by them.

Daphne was picking largish pieces of brown and white stuff out of her long curly hair and flicking them at the ground. Neither Justin nor Em had recovered enough to move much yet, so they just stood there watching their friend. When Daphne froze, looking down at the palm of her hand to determine exactly what the large white bit she’d just found in her hair was, they all saw the thing at the same time and there was another round of untempered screaming: The big white chunks were large and rather squirmy white maggots!

“Get em off me! Get em off! Get em off! Get em off!” Daphne was running around like a madwoman and pulling at her hair in a total panic. Emmett seemed almost as scared of Daphne as of the maggots and started to run away from his friend. Only Justin managed to hold it together long enough to make sure that Daphne didn’t run out into the lane of traffic. He pulled her back to the edge of the road and held her still while they both used their fingers to comb out her hair as best as possible. About five minutes later, a bashful Emmett came walking back towards them, apologizing for running away from the tiny bugs like a scared little faggot.

The three drenched and rancid smelling friends stood there on the side of the road just staring at each other for several long minutes. Nobody really had any immediate ideas on what to do at this point. The inside of the car was a total disaster area and wouldn’t be habitable until it was well-cleaned, if ever. They were covered with filth and stranded on the side of the road and had no idea where they even were at this point. I don’t think even Emily Post would know what one does in a situation like the one they were in.

“Shit, guys. At this point, I’m starting to question whether this ill-thought out trip, and the man behind said trip, was worth all this trouble,” Daphne groused, voicing the same ill-temper they all felt.

“Now, now, Daphne,” Emmett, the unquenchable romantic, refused to accept defeat. “This is just a minor setback, Sweetie. Remember, we’re doing this for Justin, so he can find the man of his dreams. We can’t let a little thing like exploding garbage stop us when we’ve already come all this way. Where’s your sense of Adventure?” However, that being said, nobody made any move to take action for at least a few more minutes after Em’s pep talk faded away.

Daphne, the most logical of the three, came to her senses first. The town of Oregon City was still about five miles away or so from where she thought they were when the exploding garbage forced them off the road. Looking around at their environs, she saw there was a little path about fifty meters away leading from the side of the highway down over the embankment towards the sparkling river below them. It gave her an idea.

“Okay, folks. Here’s what we’re going to do,” Daphne said, taking charge. “First, we’re going to clean out as much of the mess as we can out of the car while we’re still dirty. We need to get all the trash out and make sure there’s no more of whatever-the-fuck that shit was hiding under the seats. Then, we’ll grab some clean clothes and climb down to the river and wash up as best as we can. Maybe after we’re cleaned up, we can hitch a ride to the nearest gas station and get the car towed over to someplace where we can wash it out or something. But, we’re definitely not going to get a ride smelling like this!”

Everyone agreed - not that they really had a choice since nobody came up with a better plan than Daphne’s - and they immediately commenced the onerous task of cleaning out the car as best as they could with only their hands. When they finally pulled out all the trash, they saw that the original cause of the rank odor was a brown paper wrapped butcher-shop parcel from someplace called ‘Otto’s Sausage Kitchen’ labelled ‘1/4 pound Head Cheese’. The mere thought of anyone buying anything called ‘Head Cheese’ was almost as disgusting as the rotted remains of the thing had been. Needless to say, there was more than a little bit of gagging and retching as they worked to get the car cleaned out.

Luckily, Justin’s dufflebag had escaped most of the rancid gloop so he didn’t have to resort to trying to find another souvenir T-shirt. Soon enough, they’d done all they thought they could and were ready to get themselves a little bit clean. They all grabbed some fresh clothes and headed down the dirt track leading to the river bank below.  

The track was steep but not unscalable for the three young people. When they finally got down to the edge of the river, they looked around and found they had a wonderful view of the nearby Willamette Falls. It was a fairly warm day, the water was sparkling brightly and Emmett even claimed to have seen a couple of large fish jumping through the rushing water of the falls. Daphne got a little startled when she first took a tentative step into the water - her unexpected approach causing a dark brown head to pop out of the water about two meters away, the furry little face almost grinning at the humans while the curious sea lion chomped away happily on the salmon it had just caught. Daph shrieked a bit and jumped back out of the water until the sea lion decided they weren’t very interesting after all and swam off to a nearby dock where she hoisted herself out into the sun next to a couple of blubbery buddies. After a few minutes, the boys coaxed Daph back into the water, but she continued to keep one eye on the large lounging wildlife the whole time.

Altogether it wasn’t a bad spot to take a little dip in the river. All three went in with all their clothes on at first - simply desperate to get the stink off them as quickly as possible. The cool, fresh water and the sunny day eventually worked enough magic to cheer them up again. Before long, they had stripped off their ruined clothing and were laughing, splashing and giggling away - the exploding garbage almost forgotten. In fact, they were having so much fun that they didn’t notice the motor boat approaching from downriver with the word ‘POLICE’ prominently painted on the side of the hull until it was close enough for the driver to yell at them.

“Hey! Sorry to inform you three, but this is the Willamette*, not the fucking Riviera,” a tall man with a thin wiry build, dressed in a bright orange jacket and wearing hip wader boots, hollered from behind the steering wheel of the small river craft. “We don’t have nude bathing around here. So, I’ll give you about sixty seconds to get some clothing back on before I haul all three of you in for indecent exposure.”

The man talked mean, but his tone of voice was almost laughing, so the three bathing beauties didn’t panic, they just hopped out and pulled on their clothes as quickly as possible. While they were dressing, the boat operator pulled up to the bank and then vaulted over the side of the boat, landing with a little splash a few feet away from where Emmett was still trying to pull on his over-tight orange pleather pants.

“Sorry, officer,” Justin apologized, looking up into the kind-looking chocolate colored eyes of the man approaching them. “We had a bit of trouble with some exploding head cheese in our rental car up there.” The officer gave a visible shudder at the mention of the ‘exploding head cheese’ - he couldn't think of anything worse at the moment - as Justin pointed up to the road where you could just see the bumper of the rental. “We were just trying to clean up a bit so we could get a ride into town and see about towing the car to the nearest car wash.”

“I’m NOT getting back in that thing until you can promise me there are no more maggots,” Daphne added, the disgusted look on her face more than enough of an explanation for the nice police officer.

“Well, that’s a new one for me, I have to say,” the cop said with a chuckle, scratching a bit at the short dark blond hair that was curling out from under the cap he was wearing. “I’ve never had to deal with exploding head cheese complete with maggots, before, but let’s just say I’ll take your word for it rather than checking it out in person. I can call for a tow truck for you and there’s a car wash just on this side of town. But, no more public nudity, please,” the amused policeman added as he grabbed the radio mike attached to the shoulder of his jacket and asked for a tow truck.

“Well, now that that’s all taken care of,” Emmett added as he sidled up closer to the helpful public servant, “maybe you and I should go get a cup of coffee, Officer Feel-Good, while these two young ‘uns get the car all spruced up?”

Both Justin and Daphne were flabbergasted - not only were they embarrassed by their friend’s overt flirting with the police officer who’d threatened to arrest them just a few minutes earlier, but they were a little scared that his brightly burning flame might get them into even more trouble. Of course, they should have known never to doubt Emmy Lou’s Infallible Gaydar. With a sweet, shy smile, the previously business-like cop nodded towards Emmett and then crooked his elbow out in invitation.

“Sounds good to me . . .”

“Call me when the car’s ready, kiddies!” Emmett laughed as he strutted off with his latest conquest, leaving Justin and Daphne scowling at him beside the disgustingly smelly vehicle they now had to clean all on their own.

☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂

Of course, the rental car would never truly be the same as it was prior to the exploding head cheese incident, but after Justin and Daphne power washed the interior for an hour at a nearby car wash, it was at least bearable to sit in. They had to go to the closest sundries store and buy a bunch of cheap-o beach towels to cover the still-damp seats, but that was the only negative to their plan. By the time the car was ready to go again, and they’d rounded up Emmett after his late morning tryst with Officer Feel Good, everyone was eager to get back on the road. They were only about two hours behind schedule.

Just beyond Oregon City, the countryside opened up into farmland with picturesque little towns dotted about every few miles along the small two-lane highway they were following. Justin was inspired by all the vistas of endless green fields and trees - he thought there would be a LOT more shades of different greens in his next few paintings. And, while the young artist was furious sketching away, Emmett provided a running commentary for the whole car about how ‘quaint’ the countryside was. Justin thought Em sounded way too much like that guy on the old PBS painting show - talking about ‘happy little trees and barns’ all over the place. That was Em for you, though, unquenchably enthusiastic.

Unfortunately, they only made it about ten more miles before Daphne insisted they stop again. She’d been spending more time researching the area on her laptop than she had looking at the scenery they’d been driving through. While everyone else was looking at the view, she was engrossed in looking up random factoids about whatever the other two mentioned. When Emmett announced that they were entering the city limits of ‘Historic Aurora’, Daphne immediately started demanding that they pull over right away. After a very short, but heated discussion between the three - Justin was anxious to get to Yamhill to find his man and Emmett wasn’t thrilled to stop in some dusty, tiny little burg that reminded him far too much of his hometown of  Hazelhurst - Daphne convinced them that it WAS almost lunchtime so they might as well stop here as anywhere else and get something to eat while they explored.

With her laptop open, Daphne led the way from the car into the little ghost town, reciting its history as she tried to walk and read and not trip all at the same time:

“Nearly 600 people, almost all German and Swiss emigrants, established and lived in the Aurora Colony, a Utopian Christian communal society led by charismatic mystical religious leader William Keil, from 1856 to 1883,” Daphne recited as the group came up to the Old Aurora Colony Museum. “Keil was a reputed mystic and faith healer who had emigrated from Prussia to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania in the 1830’s, reportedly as a result of having his fortune told by a gypsy. Along with his followers, Keil founded a Christian Living commune in Bethel, Missouri in 1844. In the 1850’s, about half of the Bethel colony decided to move on to the great Oregon Territory in hopes of finding an even more perfect Utopia. The colony members supported their lifestyle through agricultural production and the application of their manufacturing skills. They made most of their own products including furniture, textiles and baskets. When William Keil died in 1877, he left a power vacuum that eventually led to the colony’s dissolution in 1883”.

Old Aurora Colony, Oregon. - http://www.auroracolony.org/

William Keil - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Keil

The group, led by Unofficial Historian, Daphne Chanders, walked around the one block square ‘downtown’ area, looking at the old German craftsman-style buildings which had mostly all been turned into antique markets. They stopped briefly into the small museum and looked at the original Oregon Territory Land Grant papers that had been the start of the commune and the many old photos of the the Colony inhabitants and their descendants. Then they sat on the porch of one little antique shop that also served small snacks and ate a light lunch in the shade of the big old building discussing the irony that this Utopia had only lasted twenty-some years.

On the way back to the car, Emmett got momentarily distracted by an antique sign in the window of the last little shop in the town. “Drink Queer-Cola! Do you see that? It says, ‘Drink Queer-Cola’! I HAVE to have that sign,” the big nelly queen insisted and immediately dashed into the store.

“Do you think we should tell him that that last letter is an ‘N’ not an ‘R’,” Daphne asked Justin after their friend had already run off.

“Nah. Why ruin the wonder of it for him,” Justin assured her and they both chuckled to themselves as they headed back to the rental car, sure that Em and his new ‘queer’ sign would follow.

“Can we please get going, finally,” Justin groaned from the rear seat as the three finally got back into the tiny compact rental. “Em got his fling with some park ranger in Oregon City and Daphne, you got your ‘History Detectives’ fix, but all I want to do is get to Yamhill as fast as we can. Maybe I can find Brian early and we can actually . . . “

“What? Go on, finish your sentence,” Daphne kidded her lusty friend. “What exactly would you do if you met him early. You could barely put two words together to speak to him the other night at Babylon. So, what ARE you going to say when you finally do meet up with this incomparable Stud Muffin? Maybe - ‘Hi, I’m Justin and I’m stalking you. I just followed you clear across the country to beg you to fuck me. . .”

“Ha, ha, ha, Daph,” Justin responded lamely, not really sure WHAT he was going to say if he ever did find Brian. “I’ll think of something. I just have to be myself, right? I’m a likeable guy. He’ll see that and . . . Fuck! What the hell AM I going to say to him?”

“Why SAY anything, Honey,” Em commented with his usual outrageous flair. “I think you should just walk right up to him, grab his luscious raspberry-red lips and plant a big wet one on the man. You can talk later, after you fuck.”

“Emmetttttt,” Justin whined out his embarrassment. “I’m not going to fucking attack the guy at some business meeting he’s supposed to be directing. I need to think of something more . . . subtle. Something sexy and . . . I don’t know . . . smart, witty, alluring . . .”

“Oh, oh, oh! I’ve got it,” Daphne screeched as Justin’s complaint tapered off into nothing. “Remember, we were dancing to Lady Gaga when you fell into him, and didn’t he say something about how you couldn’t help being clumsy cause you were ‘born that way’? Well, you need to remind him of that. Something like, “not only am I clumsy, but apparently I have a need to chase hot guys halfway around the country...hoping to get laid. Can’t help it. I was born that way!” Daphne chortled at her own little joke and Emmett laughed in concert.

“That’s perfect, Baby! You were Born That Way! You simply HAVE to follow your man. Even if it means stalking him around the world!” Emmett simply had to rub it in.

“Fuck you both!” Justin complained. “I’m sure I can come up with SOMETHING that isn’t quite as lame as that. Besides, I wasn’t the one to think up this stupid cross-country trek to find some guy I met only once - It was you two who talked me into this whole thing. Don’t you dare call me a stalker! I’m just an innocent bystander. It’s you two who are stalkers!”

The only response Justin got was more laughter as his two cohorts started singing the chorus from Lady Gaga’s hit . . . “Baby, you were born that way!” they paraphrased and pointed to Justin who was still scowling at them from the back seat.

☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂

In spite of Justin’s complaints, the other two travelers demanded that they make a quick stop on the way to check out the Oregon Gardens, in Silverton, Oregon. The Oregon Gardens was an 80-acre botanical garden and tourist attraction that had been strenuously recommended by the Hostess at the hotel restaurant that morning. Justin might have objected harder to stopping there if the Hostess hadn’t mentioned that the only Frank Lloyd Wright home in Oregon was located there. And, while he didn’t really want to spend an inordinate amount of time looking at strange plants, he didn’t mind checking out a piece of architectural history like the Gordon House. What was even more amazing, was that this little gem of architecture was designed with average working-class owners in mind - In 1939 when Wright drew up the designs for this house, it would have only cost about $6,000 to build.

Oregon Gardens - http://www.oregongarden.org/.  

Gordon House - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gordon_House_(Silverton,_Oregon).

Even after all his complaining, though, it was Justin that delayed their departure from the Gardens. The garden vistas were magnificent and ended up too tempting for the poor artist. Em and Daph agreed that they should have forbidden Justin from bringing his sketchpad onto the site. If Jus hadn’t insisted on sitting down to sketch every SINGLE botanical display, they could have been in and out of the attraction in under an hour. As it was, they didn’t leave until after two pm.

“No more sketching,” Daphne said as she finally tore Justin’s graphite pencil out of his hand.

“Daphne! Give that back. I’m almost done,” Justin demanded.

“You said that about 45 minutes ago, Jus! We need to get going . . .”

“Don’t give him too much shit, Daph,” Emmett consoled the irate girl. “He can’t help it. He was BORN THAT WAY!”

That, and the incessant laughter, finally got Justin going. The trio was loaded back into their rental car and off to their next destination in less than five minutes. Daphne eventually relented, though, and gave Justin back his pencil once they were in the car, since it was either that or put up with his whining for the rest of the day.

☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂

The final stop for the day was Silver Falls State Park, just a few miles away from the Oregon
Gardens. This incredible park included eighteen different waterfalls, most of which could be viewed by a short hike on an easy hiking path called the Trail of Ten Falls. Daphne, in her guise as the group’s PSA announcer, proclaimed that this park was in and of itself a prime example why the mountain chain just east of Portland was called ‘The Cascades’.

There was a short discussion about whether or not they would try to forbid Justin from bringing his sketchpad - but his complaining was too much for either Daph or Em to handle so they eventually gave in, with the full understanding that the short hike around the main falls would take at least twice the amount of time listed in the park brochure once Justin started drawing. Luckily for everyone, it was late spring and the daylight was expected to last until early evening, so they weren’t exactly worried about how long the hike would take, even with Justin and his drawing materials tagging along.

“Shit! I don’t think I’ve ever seen this much green in my entire fucking life,” Emmett declared as they headed off down the main path. “It’s almost blinding, it’s so green.”

“Some of these plants are such a bright green, they look fake even,” Daph agreed with her friend, examining a grouping of sword ferns nearby that truly were such a bright emerald green that they looked almost artificial.

Justin, the artist of the bunch, was too overcome by the beauty of the sights around him to comment. He was just busy trying to work out in his mind how to mix paints in order to achieve the exact shade of every green thing he saw around him. It was a daunting task. There were the dark green evergreen trees, the lighter-green deciduous Alders, the bright green of the ferns and bushes, all overlaid over the black volcanic rock with the trickling silver of the falls highlighting everything. It all looked and felt so dark and mysterious but somehow calming at the same time. Justin quickly grabbed his cell phone and started taking pictures of everything around him, hoping that the pictures would turn out good enough to remind him of this sylvan paradise of green.

Silver Falls State Park - http://oregonstateparks.org/index.cfm?do=parkPage.dsp_parkPage&parkId=151.

While Justin was enraptured by the artistic possibilities of the scenery, Em and Daph were babbling along, admiring everything in their own less-artistic but equally enthusiastic ways. Emmett had his cell phone out too, snapping shots of practically everything they passed. There was the gorgeous dark blue Stellar Jay that was teasing them from a tree branch overlooking the path, the shy, delicate looking white trillium flowers hiding in the darkest parts of the undergrowth and even the bright yellow flowers proliferating amongst the spiky Lincoln-green leaves of the nearby Oregon Grape bushes. Emmett almost couldn’t take pictures fast enough - everything he saw was so unique and new to him and he was just as intent on having a reminder of this wonderful panoply of nature as Justin was. Daphne was happy just pointing out new things for Emmett to capture with his digital camera app.

The main part of the pathway through the park led in a short loop from the parking area, down into the canyon carved by Silver Creek and then past a few of the bigger and more spectacular of the falls. The biggest waterfall of all, South Falls, was at the far end of the first loop. The three easterners were amazed when they discovered that the entire hiking trail continued on underneath and behind the big, multi-chute fall. According to their pseudo-guide, Daphne, who was reading from the park’s brochure, “the water of Silver Creek flows over a thick basalt lava flow that is resting on softer, older rock, and as the water loses elevation this softer layer beneath erodes and creates a natural pathway under many of the falls.”

From inside the cave behind the falls, the amazed visitors looked out through the silvery floods of water and down the canyon at the enchanting and almost magical scene. Under the falls, the sound of the rushing water overhead was almost deafening. There were a myriad of little dribbling leaks of water dripping from the walls and ceiling of the cave and making puddles of water on the pathway. There was a small sign near the cave’s entrance warning hikers that the path might be slippery, but the excited visitors weren’t really looking at signs when there was so much else to capture their attention.

Both Justin and Emmett were snapping photo after photo while they explored the little cave. Daphne was pointing out plants and flowers and interesting little outcroppings of rock that she deemed photo-worthy. Somehow, nobody pointed out the thick blanket of moss that was growing at the edges of the hiking trail. Emmett certainly didn’t notice anything as he backed further and further towards the edge of the path near the cave mouth to try and get a better picture of his two friends posing and waving from the back of the cave. He also didn’t notice the rather large, bright yellow Banana Slug that was making it’s way through the moss looking for edible lichen and small insects for it’s dinner.

“Everybody say ‘Oregon’,” Emmett directed as he finally got the picture he wanted framed. The chorus of ‘Oregon’ from his buddies, however, was subsequently drowned out by Emmett’s own screech as he took one step too many backwards, his right heel landing on the squishy big slug and his left foot sliding completely out from under him across the thick slippery moss. Em’s arms flailed helplessly and he tried to recover his balance before tumbling down the rocky slope at the front of the cave and into the caldron of water below the waterfalls. Justin and Daph rushed forward and grabbed at their friend, which only served to confuse things enough that they all three fell to the mossy ground amid the ferns. Luckily they didn’t roll too far and avoided taking the steep plunge into the creek below.

“Shit! Shit, shit, shit!” Emmett cursed as the three of them lay there trying to catch their breath. “I dropped my fucking cell phone with all our travel reservations and pictures and stuff.”

Looking around, it was pretty clear that the phone had gone over the cliff and wasn’t retrievable. Em just sat where he was, pouting about the loss and the destruction of his clothing which was now torn, dirty and wet. As he continued to mumble about ‘fucking nature’, the other two retrieved their own stuff then went back to try and cajole Emmett into getting up and finishing their hike. Em wanted nothing more to do with hiking or caves or fucking moss. He wanted to turn right around and head directly back to the car and he wasn’t moving until they all agreed with him or until his little drama queen moment had run it’s course.

They might have been sitting there for the rest of the afternoon arguing, too, if Mr. Banana Slug, not deterred in the slightest by his previous run in with Emmett’s foot and determined to get past the big obstacle that was now sitting in his way, laboriously climbed his slimy way up the brightly colored pleather pant leg. Em was too busy pouting to notice that he had a slimy passenger at first. But, just as Mr. Slug had crawled far enough that the eyes on the tips of his antenna-like eyestalks could finally glimpse the bed of moss he was so interested in returning to, his slime trail led him to a portion of Em’s pants where the fabric had been torn. As soon as the cold, gooey slime the slug used to help him slither along made contact with Emmett’s skin, the big scared queen jumped up, screaming at the tops of his lungs and started running wilding about demanding that someone, “Get it OFF Me! Get it OFF Me! . . . “

Mr. Slug almost immediately slithered down off the hysterical queen and happily landed back on his soft mossy bed. He was tired after that long slow journey, but at least he was back where he had wanted to be all along. Now, time to find some insects to engulf for dinner . . .

☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂

“I was SLIMED! Do you hear me? I was fucking SLIMED! That is the MOST disgusting thing that has ever happened to me in my entire fucking life. Why do they let those slug creatures live here, anyway. You’d think the government would eradicate them or something. . . “

Emmett hadn’t stopped grousing about the slug encounter for the past hour. His rant about the slug was only somewhat more annoying than one of his rants about his equally slimy boyfriends. Justin and Daphne, however, had lots of experience ignoring one of Emmett’s rants. They just let him complain all the way back to the car and all the rest of the way while Daph took over driving to the hotel they were supposed to stay at that evening.

☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂

Pulling into the ‘thriving metropolis’ of McMinnville, Oregon, the three Pittsburghers followed the directions Daphne pulled up on her laptop to find the hotel they were scheduled to stay at for the evening. It wasn’t exactly difficult. McMinnville, proper - the County Seat for Yamhill County, no less - was only really about eight square blocks of property once you got away from the typical  strip-mall sprawl that followed along the highway. They had reservations at The Hotel Oregon - a refurbished hotel situated on Main Street which was originally built in 1905 and later bought by the entrepreneurial McMenamin Brothers in 1999.

Mike and Brian McMenamin were Portland, Oregon natives who inherited a small pub from their father in 1974. They somehow lucked into the beginnings of the ‘microbrewery revolution’ in the Pacific Northwest in the early 1980’s. Over the next twenty years, these two amazing businessmen parlayed their one small pub into an empire of more than 100 different properties through Oregon, Washington, Idaho and Northern California. They’d sort of made a name for themselves by concentrating on buying down-and-out historic properties (for pennies on the dollar, of course) and then rehabilitating them. They’d turned the old County Work Farm into a resort destination, brought new life to a number of old 1930’s era movie houses, revamped old hotels, WWII Dance halls and even made a decommissioned public elementary school into a premier bed and breakfast. The draw for the old Hotel Oregon in McMinnville seemed to be it’s tie-in to the burgeoning Oregon Wine industry. It really was the only hotel around with any sort of class and with the McMenamin’s savvy marketing skills, the old hotel had become new again.

McMenamins Breweries & History - http://www.mcmenamins.com/382-mcmenamins-breweries-oregon

Hotel Oregon, McMinnville, Oregon - http://www.mcmenamins.com/441-hotel-oregon-home

Louis LaBonte - The first permanent white resident of Oregon. - http://www.ci.dayton.or.us/vertical/sites/%7B0813AE62-E15F-4C65-858B-10DDF2ABA1FE%7D/uploads/Some_Dayton_Chapters_in_the_Oregon_Story-retyped_June_1997.pdf.

The travelers were immediately taken in by the nineteenth century charm of the old hotel. It turns out that their rooms were ‘European Style’ lodgings, which meant that they didn’t have a private bathroom. That was almost a deal breaker for Emmett, until he saw how elegant and accommodating the bathrooms really were. There were separate private cubicles for each bath/shower/toilet area, a comfortable communal lounge area that held the sinks and the hotel provided complimentary fluffy robes and slippers for each guest as well as a whole basketful of bath goodies to try out once he found the facilities. In fact, it was probably the most elegant accommodations the three had ever seen.

A very amenable porter was more than happy to show them to their rooms up on the fourth floor of the building and help with their (i.e., Emmett’s) luggage. The boys were staying in ‘The Amazing Louis LaBonte’ suite while Daphne was in the ‘Miss Olivia Ireland’ room across the hall.  The provenance of each room’s name was explained in full on a small plaque next to the door in each suite and the porter wasn’t slow in pointing that particular feature out to the occupants as it was one of the unique selling points of this little hotel. While Emmett started going through his goody-basket of toiletries and the porter took Daphne off to her own room, Justin read the historical information about their room’s patron. It sounded like Monsieur LaBonte was quite the character and a true Oregon pioneer. Justin thought it was apt that the hotel was honoring his memory.***

By the time Justin had finished reading the plaque and thereby getting his history fix for the night, Emmett was already off to revel in the privacy of his own little bathing cubicle. It had been a very long day and Em definitely wasn’t up for any more ‘travelling fun’ this evening. Justin decided to grab Daph and head up the the Rooftop Bar for some dinner and a beer or two before he himself crashed for the evening. As he was leaving his room, though, Justin was almost knocked over by a gaggle of oddly dressed people all heading to a room at the far end of the hall that seemed to be hosting a party of some kind. Justin followed one pair, who were dressed in some type of shiny gold lame outfits - one of whom had a wig of metallic blue hair and the other of whom was wearing buggy plastic glasses - a couple of feet down the hallway until he saw the large lettering on the door of the suite where all the noise was coming from: ‘The UFO Room’.

The door of this suite was wide open and the room seemed packed with people. The first thing that caught Justin’s eye was a painting on the wall just inside the door showing a caricature of the hotel with a flying saucer hovering overhead. As he peeked around the door, he saw the gold-lame couple now seated by a little table in the corner, laughing and drinking pints of beer with another couple. The second couple was dressed in rain ponchos with metal pasta strainers decorated with multi-colored pipe-cleaners on their heads. The rest of the room’s occupants were equally as odd looking and most were costumed as well. Justin wasn’t sure if this room was reserved for actual space aliens or just for deluded humans that thought they were aliens, but he didn’t think he really fit in, so he high-tailed it back towards Daph’s room as quickly as he could.

Justin rounded up his compatriot, Daphne, and the two got into the miniscule, rickety old elevator that seemed like it might be original to the Hotel. It seemed to work just fine, though, and they made it up to the rooftop of the Hotel without incident. The entire roof of the building, which was by far the tallest building in the area, had been set up as an intimate eating area and bar with an unsurpassed view of the entire region. It was a gorgeous, warm, late spring evening. The temperature was perfect for dining outside under the shady umbrellas that kept off the last rays of the setting sun. Justin and Daphne made their way over to a small table in the corner that was just being vacated and made themselves comfortable while the busgirl cleaned off the former diners’ detritus.

Up here in the pub, there were even more of the oddly dressed people mingling around. It seemed like green skin was the ‘In’ thing here in Oregon. Antenna were commonplace. And, there were more than a few people dressed in ‘official’ Star Trek uniforms. Justin was beginning to see a theme here. Daphne felt that they were being left out of some really good joke and were definitely underdressed. Even the Hotel’s serving staff was wearing various UFO paraphernalia - sparkly antenna headpieces, odd glasses, etc. It was like the travelers had landed on some alien planet and where they were the only true humans.

They were saved from their uncomfortable curiosity when the porter who had previously helped them to their rooms spied the pair and came over to say hello. It seems Porter-Boy, was rather taken with sweet little Daphne, and he was more than happy to find a reason to talk to the cute curly-headed brunette again. With a flirty wave, Daph invited the young man to join them for dinner and he agilely pulled up another chair.

“So, um, maybe we missed the memo or something,” Daphne started off the conversation, directing her questions to Porter-Boy. “We didn’t expect to be spending the night in the middle of the waiting room at the end of the Universe. I didn’t bring my towel, my babble-fish is apparently on the fritz and I’ve lost my copy of the Hitchhikers Guide to The Galaxy. What gives?”

Porter-Boy laughed sycophantically at Daph’s little sci-fi reference. “This weekend is the annual UFO Fest!” he explained. “One of the most famous UFO photos ever came from a little farm just outside of McMinnville back in 1950###. Life magazine even ran a story about the photos and after that the whole town because a bit of a cult destination. The hotel has been hosting an annual party and parade for the past 15 years. It’s become quite the event.”

The History of the Famous 1950 McMinnville UFO Photos. - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/McMinnville_UFO_photographs

“You’re kidding, right?” Justin couldn’t help scoffing a bit at the idea that this many people would be here to celebrate their beliefs in little green men and flying saucers.

“Not at all!” Porter-Boy laughed right back at the credulous visitor. “Some of the folks that come here every year are convinced it’s all true. Of course, some people just come for the fun of it all, but still, I’m not going to be the one to tell them they’re wrong. McMenamin’s is all about tolerance and acceptance. The owners of the company would much rather celebrate this anomaly - and by the way, make buckets of money off it - than turn people away. Besides, who really knows? Don’t you think it’s rather arrogant to think that we’re the only intelligent life in the Universe?”

“I like the way you think,” Daphne conceded on Justin’s behalf and raised her pint of Hammerhead Lager to the brave little Porter-Boy.

And, that was all it took for Porter-Boy to ingratiate himself into Daphne’s good books forever. The rest of the meal was fun and they all laughed a lot, with Porter-Boy supplying background info on the area and lots of the local history. Their host managed to get them his employee’s discount on their next several rounds of drinks, which meant that the three of them had about double the amount of alcohol they would normally have been able to indulge in. At a certain point in the evening, Daphne ran down to her word and got her laptop and brought it up to the rooftop to show Porter-boy all the pics she’d downloaded so far from their trip.

It was only about 10:00 pm when Daphne, who’d clearly had more of the hand-crafted microbrews than she should have indulged in, brought the whole evening to an abrupt end by dumping her last pint of beer all over her open laptop as she gesticulated wildly while trying to describe the exploding head-cheese incident to a fawning Porter-Boy. There was a loud grinding noise, a tiny bit of smoke and then the laptop screen went blank. Daph was too toasted at that point to do anything other than laugh hysterically as her computer died a beer-drenched and ugly death.

Porter-Boy, who appeared to be more than willing to help out a damsel in distress, gathered up the still smoking computer and the clearly tipsy girl and carried them both out the door of the bar. Justin stopped his best friend long enough to confirm that, even in her inebriated state she wasn’t averse to Porter-Boy’s attentions, and then backed off and let her have her fun. At least his two friends had had a good time today. Justin only hoped that he would also get his turn to have a little bit of fun once he located his dream man.

☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂

It took a lot longer than the three Pittsburghers thought it would to get out of the Hotel Oregon the next morning.

Justin was out of bed at seven am and nervously pacing around the room, up and down the hallway and knocking at Daphne’s door way too early. He was yelled at by Emmett, given dirty looks from the other guests that came to their doors to see what was going on in the hall and finally had the door slammed in his face by a hung over Daphne. Finally, an exasperated Emmett sent the youth downstairs on a reconnaissance mission to get info from the hotel staff about whatever wineries were in the vicinity and see if anyone knew where this Wine Grower’s Association Meeting was being held.

Justin soon discovered that his mission wouldn’t be an easy one, however. The hordes of costumed aliens were even thicker this morning than they had been the night before. He was almost run over while walking down the stairs by a vicious pack of blue and green striped Navi that seemed to be on the hunt. By comparison, the three Klingons and even the Imperial Storm Troopers down in the lobby were far more polite. As soon as the desk clerk answered a few minor questions for the family of purple bug-eyed aliens, and they hustled their hybrid human-alien children off to the restaurant for breakfast, Justin was finally able to get the clerk’s attention.

“It’s impossible!” Justin moaned as he slammed the door to their room closed a few minutes later and dramatically threw himself on the bed next to Emmett.

“Nothing’s IMPOSSIBLE,” Em replied groggily, “except getting you to leave me alone long enough to get some sleep.”

Justin ignored his whiney friend though, and continued to flap a stack of papers in Em’s face. “It is fucking impossible, Emmett. We’ll never find Brian. Did you know there are more than 45 wineries in the Yamhill Valley alone, not even counting all the ones nearby. Nobody at the Hotel knows anything about any Wine Growers Association Meeting today so it could be at any one of them. And, this fucking county is more than 700 square miles in area: That’s almost as big as the entire fucking state of Rhode Island. Not to mention that this is going to be one of the busiest weekends of the whole year what with all the aliens landing and all. How the hell are we going to find one man in all that? Huh? HOW?”

“Justin. . . JUSTIN! Will you stop hitting me in the face with those paper things and calm down,” Emmett demanded, sitting up and finally awake enough to take charge of his panicky friend. He grabbed the sheaf of paper that Justin had been fanning him with. “Now, what the hell is all this . . . Ohhhh, goodie, maps and brochures! Well, that’s nice, especially since my phone is out of order. So, what’s so hard about this, Jus? We just go around to a few of these lovely looking wineries and ask THEM where the big meeting is. They’re the ones who would know, right. And, in the meantime, we get to sip a little wine, probably nosh on some yummies at the wineries, soak up the culture and all that shit. It’ll be just fine, baby, you’ll see. . .Now, what was that about ‘Aliens landing’?”

It still took another hour after that to get Emmett fully ready to leave. Daphne was even harder to get moving than Em, seeing as all she seemed able to do was grunt, moan and roll over every time Justin tried to get her to so much as sit up. But, half a pot of coffee later, they managed to get her down the hall to the showers. Twenty minutes later, a completely different girl appeared, this one tired but more like her usual cheery self.

With Justin chivvying them along, they managed to get down to the restaurant for breakfast by nine o’clock. It was packed with swarms of crazy-looking, mostly humanoid, beings of all colors and sizes - all of whom wanted a big hearty country breakfast before they set off to conquer the human race and take over Planet Earth. The three humans from Pittsburgh had to bear with the slow service, however, since Daphne refused to leave the hotel until she got enough greasy breakfast in her to sop up all the leftover alcohol from her beer-drinking binge the night before.

By the time they were finished with breakfast and had gathered their bags to check out, the big UFO Fest Parade had already started. It was barely controlled chaos out on Main Street in front of the Hotel. There seemed to be just as many costumes on the people watching the parade from the sidelines as there were on the folks marching in the parade. The sidewalks were packed and it wasn’t easy for the three travelers to make it even the couple blocks away to the parking structure to get to their rental car. But, that was simple compared to trying to drive anywhere once they got in the car. Everyone was almost as grouchy as the hungover Daphne by the time they threaded their way through the festival traffic sufficiently enough to get out of downtown McMinnville.

“Finally!” Justin groused as they hit the highway, following the map to Yamhill proper and the first winery on their list.

(Map of All Yamhill-Carlton AVA Wineries- http://www.winesnw.com/nwill_yamhill-carlton_map.html)

The Willamette Valley of Oregon is a huge region more than one hundred miles long (160+ km) and at places as much as thirty miles across. It runs all the way from Portland at the far northern border of the state down past Eugene. The soil is incredibly fertile owing to a series of massive ice age floods that brought with them acres and acres of topsoil sweeping down the Columbia River Gorge all the way from Montana. The topsoil in some areas of the valley is more than 1km deep in places and, along with a wet but mild climate, it’s well known as being some of the best farmland in the world.

The Yamhill Valley AVA (American Viticultural Area) is a sub-region of the bigger valley that is particularly well known for it’s fertile agricultural lands. Early pioneers farmed the area beginning in the early 1800’s, growing mostly wheat, rye and other grains. In the 1900’s the area became well-known for its fruit crops: Apples, pears, berries and also hazelnuts. Beginning in the 1970’s, much of the land that used to be fruit orchards was converted over to grape vineyards. The cool wet climate with gently rolling hills, a long growing season and soil permeated with decades of sweet fruit crops is perfect for varietals such as Pinot Noir and Pinot Grigio. So, accordingly, there are a number of wineries both large and small that have set up shop in the little towns of Yamhill, Carlton and Gaston.

The sheer number of wineries around the area was daunting for the Pittsburgh visitors. None of them knew the first thing about wineries, wine tasting or which wineries were better than others. The biggest wineries - Kramer, Elk Cove, and WillaKenzie Estates - names that were at least vaguely familiar because their wines were sold nationwide - were mostly on the north side of the valley, however, so that was where the group decided to start their search.

They drove north from McMinnville through the center of Yamhill proper and then headed even further north driving through the beautiful rolling green hills. The soft morning light shone down on the springtime green of the countryside. There were endless lines of vines stretching along the spine of the hill and curving around the knolls. The trees were in full-leaf and the little groves of trees and patches of browner fields that broke up the expanse of vines only added to the beauty of the view. Justin thought that it looked more like pictures he’d seen of Italy than someplace in the United States. His drawing hand was just itching to put some of the scenes he was looking out at down on paper, but it would have to wait until they found the man they’d come all this way for.

Kramer Vineyards - BTW, I have NO affiliation with any of these wineries, I just like to drink wine! - http://www.kramervineyards.com/

The first stop was Kramer Vineyards. It was one of the oldest wineries in the state, with more than 30 years of experience making Pinot Noir. The winery had a huge tasting room set up on the estate, with a lovely big patio full of tables and shaded by grape vines growing on trellises all around. The three neophytes, approached the bar where a smiling woman was pouring out small glasses of various different wines for guests who would then take their drinks off towards one of the patio tables. Emmett pulled his shoulders back and stood up to his full 6’2” height then assumed a knowing air and approached the bar with all the assumed confidence he could gather, pulling his two much less assured friends behind him.

“Hello. Welcome to Kramer Vineyards,” the smiling woman wielding all the bottles greeted them. “Do you know what vintage you’d like to taste first?”

Of course, this was not nearly as simple of a question as it sounded. On the top of the bar in front of them, there was an array of at least eight different wine bottles. Next to the wine, were wine glasses ready to be filled, bowls with various small snacks in them and laminated menu cards with information about each and every wine produced by the vineyard. It was all a little bit intimidating if you didn’t know what the hell you were doing.

Taking over when Emmett seemed to falter, Justin thought it best to just admit their lack of experience and let the kind wine-lady guide them. “Hi. We don’t actually know anything about wine tasting,” Justin confessed. “We’re visiting from Pittsburgh - which, as far as I know, doesn’t have much in the way of wineries. But, anyway, we have no idea what to try first.”

“Not a problem,” the amiable woman laughed and immediately picked up a bottle of chardonnay, pouring a small amount into each of three glasses. “We get a lot of people here tasting for their first time. And it’s refreshing that you actually admitted it instead of pretending like so many others do. So, let me walk you through our wines and exactly how to taste wine properly.”

How To Taste Wine - http://www.wikihow.com/Taste-Wine

It took the trio about forty five minutes to taste the entire selection of the wines offered, starting with the drier, white wines like the chardonnay and the pinot grigio. The kind Wine-Lady, explained how to judge the wine by looking at it’s color, smelling the bouquet and then tasting it. She explained a little about the chemical properties of different wines and the way it tastes different on different parts of the palate, how to aspirate the wine as you taste it and how the taste can change once more air is introduced. She also showed them how the taste of some wines changes and can be drastically improved when paired with different foods. It was amazing, for instance, how the heavy, almost syrupy red wines, miraculously changed when they were paired up with say a bite of chocolate, making them (almost) the best thing anyone had ever had in his or her mouth.

In the end, they bought four bottles of wine and tipped the Wine-Lady generously before they left. It was one of the most educational experiences Justin had ever had with alcohol involved. Who knew you’d have to have a basic understanding of chemistry in order to be able to drink wine properly.

Armed with their new found expertise in the art of wine tasting, the group toddled off, just a tad tipsy, to the next winery and then the next and then the next. They were having so much fun that they actually kept forgetting to ask any of their hosts about the location of the Wine Grower’s Association meeting. It wasn’t until they were just about to leave the fourth tasting room on their tour, that they noticed some of the other tasters dumping out the majority of their wine into little stainless steel buckets set up on the bar top.

“Why the fuck are you throwing out all that good wine,” Daphne injected herself into the other group’s conversation, emboldened by her already full morning’s worth of wine tasting.

With a thoroughly snooty tone of voice, the older woman standing next to Daphne informed her that, “serious tasters never drink a whole glass, my dear. Even though the portions served here aren’t that large, you don’t want to get drunk. And, if you plan to spend an entire day tasting wine, you simply can NOT drink every drop you’re served.” The woman, along with the rest of her pompous group of sycophants all tittered condescendingly at Daphne.

“Ohhhhhh! I get it,” Daphne replied with a saccharine sweet and clearly fake smile. “You mean that you don’t want to deal with the dregs, is that it?”

“Why, yes. That’s exactly what I mean,” the arrogant old woman answered, again with a derogatory little laugh.

“I never waste my time with the dregs, myself,” Daph explained, as she calmly lifted up what was left of her last glass of wine and then deliberately poured the contents over the head of the snobby woman. “The dregs of society, that is. I prefer to drink all my wine!”

The uptight woman, now drenched in a lovely estate bottled cabernet sauvignon, sputtered. Her companions began to get angry at Daphne in between efforts to help the dripping woman clean herself off. One of the servers was giggling while the other was looking scandalized at the scene taking place in front of her in the usually staid environment of the well-established vineyard. Justin and Emmett were stunned at first, but having known Daphne for several years it wasn’t exactly unexpected that she would react accordingly to anyone dissing her or her friends. Luckily, the three eastern visitors came to their senses before everyone else around them had decided exactly how to react. They grabbed ahold of Daphne and ran for their car then sped out of there, laughing at the uproar that was following them and the memory of the haughty woman who’d been brought down to earth by the scrappy and indomitable Daphne.

☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂

The incident with the snobby wine tasters killed their buzz and brought them all back to reality enough that they realized they needed a bit of a break from the fun of drinking all that wine. It also happened to be lunchtime. It was unanimously decided that they needed some real food in them before they engaged in any more wine tasting for the day. So the group decided to take a little break, refuel, regroup, and then go from there.

The first restaurant they happened across was the Trask Mountain Outpost. The building itself looked like a log cabin. It was right off the main highway in Yamhill, though, and the group decided to give it a try. Inside it seemed like a cozy little family-type place. There were interesting knick-knacks hanging on the wall and a huge stuffed Moose’s head over the cash register in the front. While, they hadn’t seen any moose yet while they’d been in Oregon, they had seen pretty much everything else, so it didn’t phase the travelers all that much.

The food was unpretentious but yummy and after their pretentious morning of pretending to be knowledgeable wine connoisseurs, it was exactly what they wanted. Everyone had a sandwich and a soda and there was even homemade apple pie for dessert. The server was a nice young local kid who couldn’t have been more than 16 or so, but he did a great job nonetheless. The only complaint they might have had was that everyone in the place seemed to disappear right after they’d been served their dessert but before they could pay their tab.

“Sorry about making you wait for this,” the server said when he finally emerged from the kitchen about twenty minutes later. “We’re catering this big luncheon meeting down in Carlton today and the guys who picked up the order about twenty minutes before you got here forgot all the desserts. Joe needed some help getting everything ready so he can run the delivery over. So, how was everything,” he asked as he took Em’s credit card and began to ring up their lunch.

The magic word ‘Meeting’ got everyone’s immediate attention.

“That wouldn’t happen to be the meeting of the Wine Grower’s Association, would it,” Justin asked with baited breath.

“Actually, yes . . . I thought you guys were from out of town. How do you know about the Wine Grower’s meeting?”

“YES!” all three Pittsburghers cheered as one!

“We’re trying to get there. I’m supposed to meet someone there, but . . . well, we didn’t know exactly where the meeting was being held and . . . Please, please, please, tell us where it is,” Justin begged.

“Joe? Where’s the Wine Grower’s thing happening?” the server yelled into the depths of the kitchen.

“Barking Frog,” came the disembodied voice from the back.

“Right, it’s at the Barking Frog Winery, which is down in Carlton,” the server started to explain, but was interrupted by the voice from the back again.

“They’re not at the Tasting Room. It’s out at the vineyard off Fir Crest. Over by Twelve Wine.”

“Okay. Thanks, Joe,” the server yelled back and then proceeded to try and give them directions to the vineyards of the Barking Frog Winery.

“Just out of curiosity,” Daphne asked even as Justin was tugging at her arm to get her move faster towards the car, “what did the guys who picked up the order look like?”

“Don’t know . . .” the server stopped and had to think about it for a bit. “The guy that paid was just ordinary looking, I guess, brown hair, not too tall . . . Oh, but the other guy with him wasn’t bad looking. Tall. Good hair. Studly, sorta.”

“Brian!” the three visitors crowed in unison as they stormed out of the restaurant.

☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂☂

Unfortunately, more than an hour later, they were still driving around in circles looking for the damned Barking Frog Vineyards. It turns out that the windey little dirt roads that meandered through the hills of the Yamhill Valley were NOT very well marked. Without Emmett’s smart phone or Daphne’s laptop, they were without modern GPS assistance and had to rely solely on the verbal directions they’d been given by the guys back at the restaurant. However, after they made it to Carlton and then turned off the main road that headed up into the wilderness, they’d become ridiculously lost within only minutes.

And, except for lots and lots of trees, some random livestock - a cow here and there, a forlorn-looking donkey and even a couple of llamas in one field - there didn’t seem to be much life on these old back roads. At least not human life that was capable of giving comprehensible directions.

They’d managed to wave down one older local woman who was picking up her mail from the mailbox out on the main road before she could get back in her truck and drive off up the abandoned-looking, rutted, one-lane drive that presumably led eventually to her home. She’d never heard of the Barking Frog Winery. She figured it was one of them new places that seemed to just come and go these days. The only helpful suggestion granny had was to drive over to the Peterson’s - who lived ‘across the way about two miles over’ - since they were young folks and probably would have a better idea where this ‘Barking’ place was.

The travelers drove about two miles over, but couldn’t find anyplace that looked like it might qualify as a home across the way. They kept driving and eventually found themselves right back in Carlton. So, they turned around and tried once again to follow the directions they’d been given.

And, ended up back in Yamhill.

And then again, back in Carlton.

Finally, admitting defeat, they pulled into the only gas station in the area, a small shack-like place over behind the post-office in Carlton, and asked the grizzled old attendant to direct them. This guy claimed to know the winery at least. But Justin could already tell that his directions weren’t going to be much help. He figured that they’d probably be able to find the ‘The old Auto Parts store’ - where they were supposed to turn left - but the rest of the directions - such as, turn right about a mile after they passed ‘Old Bernie’s Barn’ and drive till you get to that big old oak tree that leans over the highway by the river - would be more problematic. Justin’s hopes of ever finding the vineyard or Brian sunk even more.

Strangely enough, though, Emmett seemed to understand the old-timer’s directions perfectly. As they drove off, Em told them how that was just exactly how folks back in Hazelhurst would have given directions and gushed about how much easier it was to find things if you referenced landmarks that didn’t move rather than street signs that tended to disappear in the country. Neither Justin nor Daphne dared to contradict him, since they were city kids and completely out of their element out here in the wilds of farm country.

Then, almost miraculously, just when they thought they were once again lost, there was a well-maintained gravel road that led off to the right with a beautiful modern-looking sign next to it announcing that they’d finally made it to their destination.

Cheering wildly, the little economy rental car full of people drove up the small road until they finally came to a nice, newish building made of field-stone with a real paved parking lot. They’d made it! They’d found the winery! ‘Wine ho’!

Em and Daph jumped out of the car as soon as it was parked. They were running towards the entrance and halfway there before they noticed that Justin wasn’t with them. Turning back, they saw that the young blond was barely out of the car.

“Justin! Come on! We’re here. We found the place! Come on, don’t you want to find this Brian guy?” Daphne bellowed at her slow moving friend.

“I . . . I don’t know what to say to him, Daph. I never figured it out. What if Brian IS here? What the fuck am I going to say to him . . . I got nothing . . .”

“Fuck that, Jus! Who the hell cares WHAT you say. You dragged us all clear across the country to find this guy, so grow some big hairy balls already and get your ass over here. I don’t care what you say, but you’re damn well going to say something after all the shit we’ve gone through to get here. Now, go in there and GET YOUR MAN!” Daphne ordered and simultaneously shoved Justin towards the entrance to the estate building.

With his friends’ support backing him up, Justin’s resolve returned and he headed inside the main doors with renewed purpose. Like all the wineries they’d been to today, the main tasting room was mostly just a big open area that was fronted by a bar. This time it was manned by a casually dressed gentleman with a salt-and-pepper beard. Justin made his way around the two other small groups of tasters who were already inside and approached the pourer waiting for him at the bar.

“Excuse me, um, we were, um, hoping to meet someone that was supposed to be here for the Wine Growers Association meeting,” Justin faltered.

“Sorry, son,” the older man replied, shaking his head. “The meeting ended almost an hour ago. I think everyone’s gone already.”

“Shit!” Emmett hollered, causing all eyes in the place to turn towards the tall, lanky, ostentatious queen. “Sorry . . .” Em waved in apology for his language. “Everybody is gone already? Are you sure? We came all this way . . .”

“Well, there might be a few folks left back there. You’re welcome to go back and check if you’d like,” the Barking Frog Man offered, holding open the drape covering the passageway back into the bowels of the winery’s facility. “The meeting room is clear at the back.”

The Pittsburgh Three sighed as they headed through the draped opening and made their way down a hallway lined on both sides with wine barrels. Nobody was cheering or running, now, though. Justin couldn’t believe that they’d come all this way for nothing. If Brian was gone already, it was hopeless.

Justin figured that he’d probably never see the beautiful brunet man again. He’d never have a chance to feel that perfect hard body pressed up against his own. He’d never taste those crushed-cranberry lips again. He’d never get a chance to finally say something witty and romantic and captivating to the man of his dreams. In fact, he’d probably die a hopeless lonely old queen without ever finding that perfect someone to love. It was useless, pointless, tragic almost. It was just like everything else in his bleak, depressing, hopeless life. Why even bother looking anymore. Justin’s life was over and he knew it would never be the same.

“I’d heard it was always rainy in Oregon, but all I can see is ‘Sunshine’,” came a sultry deep voice from the end of the hall in front of them.

Justin looked up in amazement just as Brian came walking out from behind the long row of wine barrels. The sexy man stopped in the middle of the walkway and smiled a bewitching half-smile at the approaching young blond man. All the potentially witty remarks that Justin had been mulling over for the entire trip instantly evaporated out of his brain the minute that smile hit him.

“Hi . . . I was just, um . . . just in the neighborhood and um, I thought . . .maybe you’d like to finish our dance,” Justin offered with a bashful smile.

Brian laughed sensually and then opened his arms wide, a sexy smirk adorning his gorgeous countenance. “Sounds wonderful, Sunshine. I just signed a huge new client, so it’s the perfect time to celebrate and I can’t think of a better way than dancing . . . with you.”

Justin stumbled forward, inextricably drawn into those inviting open arms. Daphne and Em stood together behind their friend, hugging each other in their happiness and smiled at the ridiculously romantic scene that was transpiring right in front of them. Just then the strains of a mellow slow rock tune filtered in from the direction of the tasting room. With a little chortle of laughter at the propitious circumstances that seemed to conspire against his decidedly unromantic nature, Brian wrapped his arms around the young man and they started to sway together.

Brian had already had more than enough wine for the day, but he didn’t mind in the least sipping at the luscious rosado lips of the young man that happened to just be in the neighborhood right when he needed a dance partner. He couldn’t think of a better way to end his trip. Maybe having to come to Oregon wasn’t such a bad thing after all . . .

Sip The Wine - by Rick Danko (1978) - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q53twA7I02Q&feature=kp.

A mellow blues/rock tune to listen to while you drink your Oregon Pinot Noir.