Center

HOT WHEELS: See See Motor Coee Co. on Northeast Sandy Boulevard.

OVERDUE TRIM: Stylist Amantha Patrick with a customer at Hollywood Barber and Style Shop.

BODY ART: Tattoo artist M.J. Beaton at work in New Rose Tattoo.

REUNITED: A gathering at Sinott’s Lil’ Cooperstown Pub & Grill on Northeast Halsey Street.

been in years and years,” he laughs. “My girlfriend cut her own hair for the time, and I was afraid of her doing that to me.”

Before his appointment, Lily Allen, who works the front desk, took Barrington’s temperature with a notouch forehead thermometer. No customers had put up a fuss about getting their temperature taken or the mask requirement.

After a quick 15 minutes, Barrington emerged from the chair, his once-shaggy locks now high and tight. He looked like a new man.

“I feel like one,” he said. MEIRA GEBEL.

The Pearl District 9:01 pm Saturday, June 20 The sun hadn’t even set, and it was already nearing last call at River Pig Saloon.

Per the governor’s orders, during this first phase of reopening for Multnomah County, all bars and restaurants must stop serving customers at 10 pm. And while the crowd at this University of Oregon-supporting sports bar didn’t appear to get the message about wearing masks indoors, it sure seemed aware of the early closing time: At a point of the night when most clubs would normally be mixing their first vodka sodas, the place was at maximum capacity. A slew of young professionals sociaiized on the boardwalk outside, as club music bounced.

A line formed outside, at least five customers deep, and getting deeper. A group of five walked up, and the bouncer—abiding by the face mask rule, like the rest of the staff—greeted them with a handshake, just like in preCOVID times.

It was a similar scene an hour earlier at Jake’s Famous Crawfish. A group of four christened the return of dine-in service with steak, followed by glasses of Crown Royal on the rocks. Another woman stumbled toward the bartender and ordered a bottle of “champ-pan-yain.” When a couple on the sidewalk, dressed like they’d just gotten married, walked past the restaurant’s large main window, everyone inside raised a glass to them.

Back at River Pig, a young man in a long sleeve shirt who’d been waiting to get in for about 20 minutes finally gave up. It was almost last call, and he lost faith he’d get in. He left the line and headed toward downtown.

This reporter also left. “Come back earlier next time,” the bouncer shouted.

Two hours later, another crowd formed outside the Justice Center—around 300 people, protesting police brutality for the 22nd straight night. Among them was a familiar face: the guy from the front of the line at River Pig, holding a can of hard seltzer. SERGIO OLMOS.

St. Johns 3:10 pm Sunday, June 21 From the reception desk at Peak Performance, Kris Whitley watched a steady stream of people file into the Mousetrap Tavern across North Lombard Street. At t h e g y m where he works, the return of customers was more like a trickle.

“There’s the tavern and the waffle truck,” says Whitley, referring to Peak Performance’s neighbors. “The gym is the slowest. A lot of people seem very hesitant to come in.”

At the moment, only four people were working out in the mirror-lined, air conditioning-blasted space about the size of a basketball court. Blue arrows on the floor governed traffic flow, disinfectant spray was stationed throughout the room, and a sign on every other treadmill and elliptical read “Out of Order”—the machines all worked fine, it was just to keep sweaty patrons from working out next to one another.

On the front desk sat a plastic device Whitley referred to as a “fogger,” which looked like a small leaf blower. Whitley used it to mist the equipment with a disinfectant solution throughout the day.

Kyle Wagner—a regular at Peak Performance for four years—was practically beaming as he wiped down the weight plates he’d just used. Without lifting to burn off steam the past few months, he’d been going for outdoor runs.

“I hated every second of it,” says Wagner. “It’s just really good to be back.” SHANNON GORMLEY.