I'm breaking up with Portland

At the risk of alienating all my friends and family that live in Portland, I have to finally admit that I don't like the city.  This is nothing against any of you as individuals.  However, the things that make Portland unique and a place that the people there love are the things I can't stand about it.  Going to the Portland Timbers game this weekend was the last straw. 

I had been looking forward to this game for months, since single game tickets went on sale.  I was excited to see the atmosphere and check out how the old lady I once knew as Civic Stadium now looked in its newest incarnation as Jeld Wen Field.  First thing I noticed was that I was not the typical Timbers fan.  I had no scarf.  I had no jacket with patches of obscure bands sewn into seemly random spots. I was definitely not wearing shoes with individual toe pockets, like the fellow next to me.  I had no facial hair or piercings.  I felt strangely out of place in  a sweatshirt and baseball hat.  The Timbers Army, while I admire their fanatical devotion, I can't get into the constant chanting and intricate chants. If you want me to yell "Timbers!" at some point or clap, I can probably do that, but this full sentences or whole songs while the game is going on, I can't do.  I want to watch the game.  I loved that after the game, a blog on the timbers army website (timbersarmy.org) blamed the loss on the Army being too hung over from the night before, and asked members to abstain from drinking the night before the next afternoon match.  The comments portion of the blog begrudginly agreed, but also seemed to put the blame on first time fans, or "noobs" as they were referred to.  I suppose I was one of these noobs, but I paid my money just like they did, and I'll enjoy the game how I see fit. To seemingly cap off the bizzaro sports culture I now found myself in, Mr. "I'm wearing gloves on my feet" next to me was carrying on a conversation with the guy next to him about his family's yurt that he was going to be vacationing at next week.   At this point, Rachel looked at me and said "we don't belong here."

I started to defend my home city, but when Rachel said "what is it that you like about Portland?" I knew my goose was cooked.  I can't say one thing I like about Portland other than the climate.  I don't particularly like ethnic food, so the food carts don't really have much pull with me.  I'm not a liberal.  I have a long standing and well known dislike for bicycles.  Driving downtown is a nightmare.  You have a lane for buses, a lane for bikes, a lane for MAX, and a lane for cars, which may or may not have a bizarre green box in the middle of it with no indication of what it is for.  I know these boxes are for bicycles, but I have no clue how they should be used.

So Portland, I'm breaking up with you.  You'll always be home to me, but I can no longer defend you when people from other parts of the country say less than flattering things about you.