Scenes from the Space Room

"This tastes watered down.. it also burns!"

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how we discovered the heaviest pour in Portland's bloody mary coterie. Though as much as I love to wake up to three shots of vodka and can appreciate such bold additions to the breakfast menu pantheon as "Taco Omelette" (I ate this), I was super-bummed by the lack of vegetable decoration in our drinks. A celery stalk and a piece of lime.

When Nancy, Christina (henceforth Nancetina) & I got into this little experiment we knew we couldn't go around comparing every bloody mary to the one that broke our hearts. It's not fair to new bloodys nor is it healthy for us. Still, my thoughts linger on the veritable salad appetizer we had come to expect with our morning cocktails. A pepperoncini, a pearl onion and a disgusting olive to share. Oh fired Katie O'Brien's waitress, I wonder if you feel how much you are missed?

No, instead we must focus on the Space Room's own quirks, pleasures and comforts. The decoupaged Star Trek-themed tables, the varied and easy-going clientele reflecting a place that makes all feel welcome and perhaps, my personal favorite.. a location that allows for maximum people watching. Situated in upper/outer (I still don't understand how distance is measured in Portland) of the increasingly gentrified Hawthorne district, the Space Room allows for endless "is that dude gay?" postulation.

Male sexuality and the expression therein, being kind of a moving target in this modern age but especially in the Rose City -- where gay dudes have bushy beards and straight dudes wear skinny jeans. Most folks will find that traditional markers relied upon for accurate gaydar are skewed and confused here. It's progressive (I guess), but a difficult transition for all of us.

Which is why it brings me great delight to share with you, dear reader, Nancetina's and my final call on a topic of great import to all slightly sauced ladies who brunch. After hours of heated debate (and multiple squeeze bags of Sysco's finest vodka), we have determined that in fact, no, gay dudes do not wear orange t-shirts. You're welcome, America!


Photo courtesy of Nate B.