Seattle was a Riot

The last time the Timbers Army invaded Qwest was an enjoyable experience, and a lot less nervy than the previous two trips I've made there. On the other trips, all of the security in the entire building surrounded the Portland fans, taunted us, and randomly threw out people for "swearing." The Timbers management warned the Sounders FO about our treatment up there and this time they backed off a bit. Overall, I'd give them a C. It'd have been higher save for the incident at the end of the game when they let all the fans out at once, instead of escorting the away fans after everyone had left like they do abroad and like we did when Seattle fans came down a few weeks ago. Instead, the concourses were packed with drunk rowdy boys and girls of both teams, families from Seattle and hordes of preteen soccer teams. The Timbers contingent had at least three different chants going, teenager Seattlites ran up to me and screamed in my face, and a few wannabe hooligans from Seattle ran through the crowd, shoulder charging people and knocking over kids of their own fans. The Army gathered outside in a sort of formation, scarves held over head and sang "We'll be coming down the road" for about ten straight minutes. Even the Seattle families were impressed, smiling, shaking hands and taking pictures. The same few assholes who charged through the concourses then tried to start a fight in the middle of this formation, but were outnumbered about 100 to 4, and it ended like a tame mosh pit with nothing but some shoving.

In all, about 400 Portland fans made the trip north, sang, danced and drank to witness an otherwise inglorious 0-0 draw. Portland may never get an MLS team due to market size and economics and blah blah blah, but soccer means something to people here, and I feel like I was a part of that history Saturday night.

Ok, enough sappiness. After the game my army buddy Owen and his girl took Tim and I out to a rugby bar where his sister's team had just finished a lube wrestling contest. The tap selection was superb, but I couldn't turn up the Strongbow, so I sipped a few of those while drooling over a hot guy across the room. Back at Owen's apartment we tried to watch the film Military Intelligence, but Owen and I, perhaps because we once were military intelligence, were the only ones to find it the least bit amusing and both Tim and Laura were passed out about five minutes in.

For whatever reason I couldn't sleep at all, and gave up at about six, surfed the net and waited for the Premiership final games to start. What I wanted to happen from these games was for ManUtd to win, Chelsea to spontaneously combust, and Fulham to miraculously beat Portsmouth to avoid relegation (I've got a soft spot for Fulham due to all the Americans on their team). All of that happened except for Chelsea combusting (but it was apparently really hot there), but honestly the most exciting part of the ManUtd game was watching the bizarre weather unfold - heat! deluge! ponds! rain! monsoon!

The drive home was uneventful. We stopped at a Denny's for breakfast and were served by a sweet old woman, which made me really sad. No one that age should have to work in a shitty place like Denny's anyway, but especially not an old lady on Mother's Day! Please, if there is a god, do not let me be serving at Denny's on a Mother's Day when I'm that age. I hope someone takes me to the tar pits before it comes to that.