“It’s like Disney on ice, only funkier and with more llamas. And no ice.” Ben Waterhouse of WW

That does sort of sum up my outing last night with Portland’s Best Llama. Yes, once again, my social life is much more interesting due to a llama and his increasing rock star status.

One of Portland’s many “alternative” weekly magazines recently got its staff together and deemed all sorts of things out and about in the Portland area “The Best.” And to celebrate the honorees, the magazine held an Extravaganza last night to bring “Portland’s weird and wonderful together on one stage!” So naturally, two fluffy llamas with painted nails and top hats were in attendance.

The festivities started with an “invitation only” parking lot pre-party that seemed mostly to consist of magazine staffers and advertisers, hipsters all of them. The array of footwear alone was worth the price of admission. Oh, wait, we got in for free. Still.

So for a few hours, Rojo and Smokey and their 5-person entourage mixed and mingled and posed and stunned. The Jack Daniels girls lingered about for quite awhile, attracting a crowd for any number of reasons. The two guys from the local Acura dealership also stayed close, although it’s not clear whether they were bigger fans of the llamas or the llamas’ two gorgeous 20-something handlers. I just know the guys had a lot of free bags in the trunk that they forgot to hand out. The booth babes from a local “all natural potato chip” manufacturer couldn’t wait to show their marketing department their pics and videos of a well-dressed llama enthusiastically gobbling the naturally puffed chips. And a tattooed woman representing a winery whined with glee over the pictures she took of the llamas and a bottle of her “hip new wine for just $8.”

As the llamas mesmerized the masses, their entourage took turns checking out the smorgasbord of free food. While sipping an orange Vitamin Water, I fell head over heels in love with the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches offered by a local food cart. Say what you want about Voodoo Donuts; I’ve now decided PBJs is really the place to go to get inspired childhood delights in Portland. Rob and I will be making a lunch-time pilgrimage soon.

The outdoor pre-party finally started to move inside once the llamas did. It was a dark, strobe-lighty venue with a small balcony and two large screens playing videos. Rob and I decided my back had stood on asphalt long enough so we said good-bye to Lori and the llamas and headed up to the balcony to get a bird’s eye view of what promised to be an extravagant show.

We watched the llamas work the room as the woman on stilts greeted people and the pixyish hula hooper frolicked about. The videos serenaded us with the worst of ‘80s early rap. Whatever happened to Kid ‘N Play anyway? Finally, Darth Vader and some Stormtroopers arrived and Portland’s Best Evening was upon us.

First up on stage were the winners of the “Best Reclamation of a Dirty Word.” Tony and his Doo Doo Funk Allstars played a few songs and did those rappy hand gestures and head bobs and otherwise tried to get the crowd into a festive mood. Then a circus gal with whirring balls on strings performed, only dropping the ball a few times. A pair of her spandex cohorts arrived later and made my back ache as they twisted and bent themselves on stage while wearing swim goggles.

We endured two other bands. One was two guys who won “Best Musical Multitaskers” since the drummer also played the guitar and sang…while drumming. It was a 3-piece 2-man band. Well, “man” is probably overstating it a bit. It was more like spying on two adolescents with rock star dreams fantasizing in their parents’ basement. The non-drummer got so into his guitary stage kicks that he accidentally pulled the plug out of his guitar. His drummer buddy just kept drumming as the Billie Joe Armstrong wannabe crawled around on the stage looking for his cord. Rob deemed it the "Best Moment of the Show." Shortly thereafter, we noticed the balcony was suddenly only half-full.

We were then treated to what was billed as an “Improv Metal” band. Two women arrived late to the stage and then allowed us to eavesdrop as they got ready to rock. And then, wow. I’m not quite sure what it was they were doing but it was so loud and awful, I burst into laughter. I happened to notice behind me that the entire row of who was left had their hands over their ears. It wasn’t clear if it was due to the volume or the content.


I sat there agonized with conflict. I desperately wanted to see the “Best Hoop Dreamer” and, of course, the grand finale – "The Best Amateur Strippers" who were actually...two guys in a band. But, it turns out, my ears were bleeding. So with a smile and wave to the guy sitting next to us who was also laughing, we made our way downstairs, committed ourselves to our decision, and walked out the “No Re-Entry” door.

Rob and I stood on the sidewalk and laughed the laugh of people who have narrowly escaped a scary adventure and almost want to do it all over again. We then noticed we were standing right in front of the “Weenies on the Water” hot dog booth/stand/boat-in-dry-dock and decided to have a late dinner. Sadly, the PBJs cart had long gone home.