Washington state is a great place to go if you get tired of Oregon’s oppressive natural beauty and lack of sales tax. In Washington, you get to pump your own gas. For all those people who freak out when they have to remain in their vehicles during the refueling process, Washington allows you to get outside, inhale the toxic fumes of the gas station, stretch your weary legs, and handle the dirty, oily pump yourself.
Mount St. Helens, unlike our own peaceful Mount Hood, blew its top two decades ago, covering the region in black ash. The last time a volcano blew in Oregon it created pristine Crater Lake. So far, there is no lake in St. Helens, but I hear you can see the devils dancing if you peer deep inside this still-active volcano.
Seattle, the biggest city in Washington, is like Portland, only dirtier. Kurt Cobain killed himself in Seattle and Jimi Hendrix is buried there, so you know this is a good place to be if you are a rock star with a death wish.
While Portland has a minor league baseball team with a good record (the Beavers), Seattle has a full-blown major league club with a so-so record (the Mariners). The Mariners do have Ken Griffey, Jr. playing for them again. I’ll concede that point to Washington: they have Ken Griffey, Jr. and Oregon doesn’t.
While Seattle has the undoubtedly cool monorail, it only travels a fraction of the distance of Portland’s own light rail system, the MAX. Plus Portland now has a gondola, which you can ride from the river to the hospital. If we can only convince Portland to remove one of the MAX’s tracks, we’d have both monorail AND gondola.
Washington is like Oregon’s kid brother. Not quite as able, a little slow on the uptake, always running behind, whining about “not being included.” It doesn’t bother us Oregonians; we see it as a nice amusement. After all, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.
Thanks, Washington, for tagging along. We pat your little head.