For the past month, I have found myself standing in line at Voodoo Doughnut at odd hours on Friday nights. Three out of those four times I was alone. Am I ashamed? Far from it.
Every Friday I meet my boyfriend … *Horatio… and a bunch of friends downtown for happy hour. This happy hour usually morphs into happy HOURS and before you know it, it’s one in the morning. While Horatio rides his bike home, I prefer the bus. When I make it to the bus stop I have two choices. I can either wait at a stinky bus stop for twenty minutes with a bunch of degenerates, or I can get a doughnut from Voodoo Doughnut. It’s a tough decision, but the doughnut wins… EVERY time.
*I WARNED you that this blog would be more confidential from now on and I think that my boyfriend… Horatio… would enjoy his new pseudonym which literally translates to “dashing”. He is.
This week I hit rock bottom. It was 1:00 in the AM hours, I was by myself, and surrounded by drunk people that didn’t know anything about doughnuts. I quickly became the doughnut guru. Like some sort of savant, I was able to describe each doughnut, its consistency, it’s fillings, it’s price, and it’s taste. I quickly became very popular within the 100 square foot shelter of Voodoo Doughnut. I would like to think that they made me their queen. Just in case you’re curious, the bacon maple bar is the best. I have also enjoyed the Portland Cream Pie and the Old Dirty Bastard. One doughnut that disappointed me was the Captain My Crunch. I’m not one for stale cereal.
When it comes down to it, after a typical week in my world at my job which will remain a mystery, I deserve a doughnut… or a dozen.
Did I mention that you can go to Voodoo early in the morning and get a BUCKET of doughnuts for $8.00? Look out.
A DISCLAIMER FOR MY WORRIED MOTHER: Dear mother, every week Horatio offers to walk his bike to the bus stop and ride the bus home with me. Just as I would bat your hand away when I was little and you would try to tie my shoe, I insist that I am quite capable of riding the bus alone. Also, please know that while there are plenty of degenerates on the street where I catch my bus, the street is also crawling with normal people… making it much less likely for me to get murdered, raped, mugged, or even mildly harassed. The only danger I face is finding out that Voodoo Doughnut is out of bacon maple bars. Unless you’re a bike in Portland, you’re not in imminent danger. I hope that eases your worried bones.
Peace, Love, and Patchouli – Portland Pollyanna