Valenstein's Day

Valenstein: the abomination that is what happens when you combine a legitimate concept and emotion with commerce and marketing. Think Mary Shelley's Frankenstein meets St. Valentine. One was just born that way (supposedly); the other was created. Really, you shouldn't get the two mixed up. There are some things that come naturally to people, and love is one of them. There are some things you can't buy or force upon people, and love is one of them.

Btw, I totally ripped off the happy cat love from Rhys. <3

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So yesterday when discussing what we'd do for dinner over IM, Makal nixed his initial idea of enchiladas and instead told me to meet him down at his office, and we'd go from there. He said he made reservations, but I knew that was all he'd tell me so I didn't even both to ask more. After an hour of hectic rushing about, I was out the door. I managed to get to his office earlier than expected, which was good because it meant we didn't have to rush to leave. I walked in through the main door and down the hall to Makal's office; soon after one of his coworkers came back and looked at me. "I thought I saw a woman come in. I was like, who's that?" Idiot dog. He tried to make some crack about how there aren't many women around a tech office, but his tongue was rolling out onto the floor which made speech hard. Luckily his glasses kept his eyeballs from popping out of his head, though I might have heard a faint "awoooga" sound coming from the meeting he was in as we left. We caught the bus downtown and wandered about looking for a hotel that began with an L, somewhere on Broadway. Eventually we found it, Hotel Lucía, which housed Thai-food restaurant Typhoon on the street level. It was a nice restaurant, yet we could instantly tell that this was not the sort of ethnic cuisine place we were used to.

Though their interior was expertly designed with a modern-yet-exotic look--accents of bamboo, broken ancient looking sculptures, and fibers on the walls--we had heard good things about the authenticity of their food. One guy from Makal's office said it was the best Thai food he's had outside of Thailand; honestly we wonder if he ever left the resort. But it was true, the food was delicious. We started with a delicious bottle of warmed sake and fried calamari. That was so good that it prompted me to get their Hor Mok Curry plate: mussels, calamari, prawns, halibut, and scallops, with a subtly spicy yellow curry sauce. Yumm. :) Well, actually I'd never had mussels before, and inspecting them upon receipt wasn't sure I would like them. They just looked... odd. Colourful, with their purple and orange flesh, and textural, with their soft body and slightly spiny looking edge. At first I thought that bumpy purple edge was tentacles from the calamari, so I was all set to eat me some suckers. But then I saw that no, it was something else entirely. And upon chewing them, I decided no, mussels aren't for me. But still, the rest of it was wonderfully delicious, and it was really nice to have something out of the ordinary. Makal had the soft shelled crabs, and said he felt barbaric eating those halves of crab, with their slight stiff crunch and all those little legs. Heh. And I'm happy anytime food is spicy beyond his expectations. ;)

As we dined, the restaurant got much busier, which made us glad that we had arrived fairly early and before the rush. Once we got to desert orders, we could barely hear the other talk across the table. This made me very glad that we hadn't gone out this evening--I can't imagine what fine dining establishments would look like tonight. Though it was quite loud, we did want desert, and we ordered an espresso creme brulée, as well as a few drinks. Mine was something containing at least Thai iced tea and Vanilla Absolut, with a bit of cream and cinnamon dashed across the top. Makal's was a Manhattan martini, which unexpectedly contained a lot of whiskey (after the fact, our research shows that these drinks are supposed to have whiskey, but he was just not expecting it), and the awful taste of it made him drink it faster. By the time the bill came and we were headed out the door, he was amusingly drunk, and we set out to find the bus home.

For those of you who aren't familiar with Portland's TriMet system, let me fill you in on something. They're redoing most of the stretches of road where the buses pick up and drop off, namely 5th and 6th streets, to prepare for a new Max line and expansion of the malls. So in the meantime, most of the stops are moved down to 4th and 3rd. Except our bus route's. Our bus, they decided to royally screw over; we still have no idea where the stop for it is, and it's certainly not listed on any of their handy "your stop has moved here" signs. We found it once a few weeks ago, but that was in daylight and I was wearing sneakers. Last night, it was dark out and I was in thin-soled heals (at least it wasn't cold or wet, I said). I'm not sure quite how long we walked, probably well over half an hour. Eventually we just kind of gave up; as we neared Pioneer Square again, we conceded that we were going to need a taxi home.

When the taxi driver did show up... well, yeah. Until last night, we'd never had a bad taxi driver in Portland. They've always been interesting on some level. But this guy, it was like he was at the tale end of a double shift or something. The call out failed, so we were lucky we even saw the taxi as it waited at a corner nearby where we'd asked to meet it. He never looked toward us, only the opposite direction of where we'd wanted to meet, so Makal had to literally chase the guy down and knock on his window as he slowly turned the corner and started to head away. We climbed in, and Makal told this guy (I usually look at their name, because most taxi drivers here are foreign and have interesting names, but I couldn't see his posted anywhere) where to head. The driver proceeded to question Makal about where that was, and how we wanted to get there. Makal repeatedly said "I don't know, I don't drive, take whichever route you know". The intersection we directed him to is not hard to find, and the driver knew how to get to either cross street in and of themselves. But put them together, and you'd think it was impossible. Eventually Makal gave up, and I heard the driver give an exasperated sigh. But honestly, what did he expect? If a guy says "I don't know how to get there", and you're the taxi driver, I'm pretty sure it's your job to figure out how to get whatever the guy is paying you to get to.

We managed to travel the right direction--though a sudden swerve to avoid getting on an offramp left me a bit tense--and the driver let us out at the market across the street. Since it wasn't bedtime yet, we went to the movie store and rented a few things; Jawbreaker is what we ended up watching last night. I swear, that movie makes me laugh every time. The horror that is high school--albeit that movie's high school is more like something out of Clueless than reality--and the people that keep it running, it's just fascinating to watch. Part of me loves that movie because of Rose McGowan alone. She wears the oddest of cloths, kind of retro, kind of fetish. She's one of those modern pinup girls; I can see why she and Marilyn Manson dated (and btw, I love his small role in the movie too). Some of the concepts of high school drama portrayed in Jawbreaker were a bit beyond Makal's high school experience--fancy IHS student that he was--but still he got some laughs out of it.

Eventually, we stayed up way too late and concluded our evening with hot cocoa. Today, I still have a hard time walking after all the wandering we did last night. I think, where are the foot fetishists when you need them? Then I remember that I hate foot fetishists, and that I don't care how much my feet hurt because those people are kinda creepy and pathetic. Then I get frustrated that they would probably like me saying that, and I throw up my hands in defeat. Stupid foot fetishists; I'll take a painfully scalding hot bath instead.

So that was our celebration of Valenstein's Day. Not on the 14th itself, because this is one of the days of the year I loathe the most and I would not want to directly contribute to perpetrating the mythos of Hallmark love. Though I don't hate today just because it is fake and commercial (at least it is the way most people celebrate it) but also because it was almost my birthday. Fucking a, that would have sucked. I live in constant terror of the life I would have led being born on February 14th, what with all my presents being as pink and lacy and sugary as they surely would have been. I would have either ended up horribly sweet and perfect, or amazingly bitter and cynical. Luckily for you, I waited two more weeks, and ended up with a delightful mix of both. ^_^ Anyway, happy Vday, in whatever incarnation you choose to celebrate it.