In the hours preceding the final dungeon party of KinkFest, I made my way back to my room to search fruitlessly for my agenda. No luck. My heart sank as the realization of years worth of contacts, addresses and emails had been lost in an instant. Briefly I contemplated whether or not to attend the party, but having made promises to partake in scenes, I felt an obligation to proceed.
Not that it was advisable to play under a bad mood, given that the cardinal rule was never to allow personal issues to correlate or manifest during play, and after some consolation (and the wanton tonsil tennis with a lady friend) I felt better straight away. Taking my fellow Vancouverite into the dungeon it pleased me to hear me squeal like a pig. I actually felt kind of bad to have my partner cry out loud enough to interrupt nearby scenes – possibly due to the animated contortions and pleas for mercy.
I never did quite manage to reach the intense state I had on the first night, the activities all around seemed more tame, slower and more passionate. The dungeon floor while spacious was not as packed and it seemed then a wiser choice to speak with others I had encountered, given that I was to depart the following day. It seemed unlikely that I would follow through with my previous plans with the loss of my agenda and more than anything, the kind words of the Portland deviants made it clear that there was more to cover than initial appearances.
After all what type of a person would draw a definite interpretation of a scene by staying a handful of days? It would be hypocrisy to have a writeup based on mere days and a wild play party. If I truly had any sense left inside of me, remembering the purpose of my travels, the damned if I wander off so quickly after my initial appearance. Collecting hugs, handshakes, and the occasional phone number I returned to my lodgings.
I sat outside on the lobby terrace for some time, perched against the edges of the garden, and stared upwards towards the stars. Often in the past I found comfort through contemplation of the moon, a waning crest then, as it shown itself down on me. How lonely I felt then, so far from home and given only a mere taste of what I left behind. I thought of my friends then, my family and loved ones too, and questioned the motivation to press on.
My money was tight and even now as I write these words, my budget is still an issue. There was a gut feeling that my stay in Portland would not be unwelcome and after packing my bags, late into the morning, I realized as well that I had a simple decision to make: Stay in Oregon for a bit longer or press on to San Francisco. Eventually I made my decision: I chose to stay.
Funny how it is that small decisions in life can be incredibly rewarding. After booking a cheap motel for a few days, I posted a thread online in FL seeking a couch to surf on for approximately a week. That should give me enough time to explore and speak with the locals.
My decision has not disappointed me to this very day.
Next Update: (Interlude) Tips & Tricks of a kinky travel blogger