When the waiter set our beers down, I noticed the odd phrase the place had chosen to represent itself. Then I noticed that it was much to light. Then I noticed that my eyes hurt from the deceiving brightness of a cloudy Portland sky. Maybe we’d left too early for dinner, but we were hungry, and pub faire sounded good.
We thought O’Connor’s was supposed to be an Irish type place, but the menu and the decor suggested that maybe it was southwest. Regardless, we got the fish, chips, and pints we’d come for, even if I had to squint with each sip.
Afterwards, we hit up John’s marketplace for a couple brews. Chatted with one of the wonderful owner’s and headed home. We watched Iron Chef because I wanted to make sure Iron Chef Chinese kept his title, then we listened to music. Laying on the floor, guitars, fiddles, mandolins, dobros, and voices. I think Manzanita would be a wonderful name for a daughter. Bluegrass music is a thing of the past, and the same for rock & roll. But we’ll enjoy it once more tonight.