Like many of the Portland-area's great columnists, John Locanthi grew up in Beaverton. After briefly considering making the big move to the nearest large city so he could write about how people there are different from people in Beaverton, John decided to just stay in Beaverton. This former
WW intern is aggressively seeking full-time employment. In the meantime, he shares the Beaverton worldview in this Beaverton-centric column about Beaverton schools and tap water. He enjoys drinking in Old Town bars on Friday and Saturday nights and has been known to eat a donut or two within Portland city limits. John tells people he is "from Portland." This column will appear on our blog every single day.
My name is John Locanthi and I am from Beaverton
No need to hide. No need throw your home-roasted coffee made with certified organic and fair-trade beans in my FACE. I’m just like YOU. Except I probably spent more of my youth cruising around the 'Tron with my collar popped, bumping 50 Cent in my SUV.
That last part isn’t true but I’m sure you believed it! Portlanders tend to look down on Beavertonians as run-of-the-mill douchebags, uptight squares or quaint hill-folk. Sometimes ALL three.
Beaverton is the sixth-largest city in this state, so the third stereotype is just fucking silly. It’s every bit the cultural mecca that Portland is, MAYBE even more so. Our water is fluoridated. Our hookah scene puts Portland’s to SHAME. And a few years ago, we got a Buffalo Wild Wings. That was pretty cool.
I guess as a former star third-string JV defensive end for Beaverton’s own Beaverton Beavers of Beaverton High School, I’ve never felt ashamed of this. It certainly isn’t something I’d only sparingly mention if I wrote about being Portland as fuck
. Which is why I write “BEAVERTON AS FUCK” instead.
No matter how many beers I share with hobo pirates along the Willamette
, how many naked drum circles I stumble into under a bridge on a wasted Sunday evening, or even how many times I wax poetic about Portland being in an existential crisis when some unpopular bizarre waste of space closes, I’ll never be a Portlander. I grew up in an upper middle class household in Beaverton, and I’m NOT afraid to admit it.
Even if this admission opens me up to criticism from Portlanders and self-loathing Beavertonians who want to look cool in front of their Portland friends...
WHY? Why do we do this? ...does being “from Portland” make you any more authentic or hip? Does it make that pulled tempeh with a side of vegan mac and cheese any less of an appalling display of poor taste? Portland can have its gluten-free race to the bottom of the Veganaise jar... We do barbecue right out here in Beaverton... We go to Famous Dave’s. Or Buster’s... Or that other barbecue place!
Yeah, I tell out-of-staters that I’m “from Portland.” I saw what happened to Brooklyn. It happened to Austin. And it’s happening to Portland right now. The city is PLAYED the fuck OUT. Beavertonians are trying to keep our Bohemian paradise a secret. That’s why we have a plant writing about the odds and ends of Portland culture while we keep Beaverton weird on the DL.
(> “DL,” he says, like a fucking dork from Portland.)