Oh you're quite a catch, cloney Mc Beardo at a NE 28th Street bar. Surely you noticed the three women in line at the bar, waiting to order, and you must have decided that by the third, you could wait no longer. You sidled between me and the bar to attempt to order before me. Nice move. It would have been smooth if you had decided to pick on anyone but me, who called you out on it.

You claimed, "there are no lines at bars *IN PORTLAND*!!" That was my favorite part. I had no idea the line ambassador of all of PORTLAND was in the bar, ready to lay down some knowledge on the first person who followed common sense decorum in a bar on a nice, sunny Saturday afternoon.

You were clearly shocked when I pushed back on your assertion that I was there first. It's hard to have your male privilege checked, but you were in the wrong in the situation. I got served first, as I had waited in line like a goddamned adult, and I thanked you for the lesson in how to act "IN PORTLAND," and walked away. The cutest part was how you tried to dog me from across the bar until you left. My entire table of friends laughed at you, and I dogged you right back. No one is afraid of passive-aggressive man-children.

I'm sure your parents told you that you were very special, but apparently they never told you to WAIT YOUR GODDAMNED TURN.