Stumptown, Part One: The Twelve Hour Start

Twelve hours with six other “art fags” in a minivan gone by and our motely crew of funnybook creators have finally gotten to Portland. The journey consisted of indulgently using the carpool lane like a pity-prom date and reenacting our own horror-movie set ups as we drove up the winding Redwood Highway 101.

It was gorgeous scenery that more than once reminded me of navigating the sloping roads of northern Arkansas with a nice chill and green scent in the air. This is where Basement Dan decided he felt more comfortable in the crack-dens of the big city ghetto than out in the sticks where Johnny Law Man makes the rules and your closest neihbor is busy making a dress out of skin.

But I have to admit, for such a long journey it was mostly uneventful , rife only with you-had-to-be-there humor, the politics of segrating conversations in the front seat from those in the rear and Oregon Trail jokes. Long after affirming each of our horror movie archtypes, and some 30 minutes after the sun rose, our Wagon hit Portland proper and we crooned over some Avril Lavigne to mark the occasion (followed up shortly there-after by the “Gold Rush” Dance).

I’ve never been to Portland before so I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect, though I must admit I found it had striking parallels to Gotham City in the respect that most of downtown Portland looks like several generations of architectural styles jutting against and on top of one another. From Gothic to Deco to Glass Contemporary, it’s an odd mish-mash of buildings tied together by the even more ecclectic suspension and rail bridges spanning the river that bisects the city.

There hasn’t been much time to rest on our laurals, or rest on *anything* of any kind since the convention starts in a scant couple of hours and those cats need to go set up the table while I get some 11th hour printing done at the Kinkos up the block.

If everything goes according to plan–because let’s be honest, that’s worked out so well so far–I’ll be spending my day haunting table 112, meeting new faces and stalking Craig Thompson.