the duck's departure

For the longest time, I could not find the Dirty Duck. I was unfamiliar with downtown when you got outside of the gay ghetto area. Chinatown confused me and I would always wander around, looking for the Dirty Duck after I had one too many drinks and one too many obnoxious party bois bump into me.

Except for the one rainbow flag, the leather flag and the statues of the leathermen, the Dirty Duck does not seem like a gay bar. It's not usually bumping choking cat techno, it doesn't have a loop of porn on the TV above the bar and it's not all concerned with fashion and gym bunnies. However, it has heart and more than enough pride. Riot Cop played at the Dirty Duck and they didn't want to have a cover at the bar so it was by suggested donation. Riot Cop then tried to give the money back but the bartender wouldn't take it. I went there the Saturday before last and their cover charge was all going to Ester's Pantry. The Duck also hosted the people who didn't feel comfortable in the more pretentious scene and it was refreshing that way.

Tonight was the last night of the Dirty Duck at it's current location. It's the oldest gay bar in Portland in a single location. It's probably survived in the same location for so long because it was out of the way (and hard to find). It was a gem that wasn't exploited or run over with hipsters. It remained true until it's last day.

The farewell party was a blast. There was more people in the bar than I have ever seen before. They had a few bands but I only made it there in time to see Sneakin' Out, a trio of husky guys who played a mandolin, a bass guitar and then the drummer played bongos, two xylophones, bells and cymbals and even a typewriter. They covered a lot of great tunes, all without lyrics but we were able to shout a lot of the lyrics out.

Dirty Duck, I hardly knew thee. I was just getting around to going out more and decided that it was the bar and then it closed. I didn't know what I had until it was gone. Sigh.