It is not recommended to walk into jakes crawfish, oregon's number one fish eatery, at 7pm and expect a table in less than an hour. When the hostess said that she could possibly seat me immediately if I didn't mind an outside table, I replied, "if you can put a stuffed salmon in front of me in the next twenty minutes I'd eat it off the floor." Convinced of my zeal I was promptly escorted to a sidewalk table.

For those dining along this row of exterior tables, especially those dining alone, they may elect to pass the time by watching the patrons of the gay bar tounge-kissing and massaging one another's buttocks across the street or taking in the opposing corner which sports a small collection of young, but fashionable, homeless begging money while drinking, the very in, sobe ales and smoking name brand cigarettes. And, If for any reason the humor seems lean in either of these venues, you can watch jake's grunged out valet guys ogling the high dollar patrons exiting their employer's establishment.

And all of this to brie and shrimp stuffed salmon and garlic mashed potatoes. Portland is my friend.