We journeyed into the belly of Portland’s annual carnival.

Aquarter century ago, Elliott Smith sang of the Rose Parade: “You say it’s a sight that’s quite worth seeing/It’s just that everyone’s interest is stronger than mine.”

We suspect many Portlanders share Smith’s shrugging appraisal. For three weeks each year, the Portland Rose Festival occupies the waterfront, raises drawbridges for battleship traffic, and closes streets so families with lawn chairs can come down and watch the parade.

The festival is an uneasy fit with Portland—a county-fair midway deposited in the center of a bleeding-edge town. The culture clash became more palpable than ever last week when the festival returned in full force after three years mostly missing. It was like Rip Van Winkle awaking from his nap to sell you a giant plush frog.

And yet. So much of Portland’s self-perception has been undercut in those three years. Downtown is gutted, and last Saturday the Starlight Parade passed through blocks that for much of the year witnessed fentanyl overdoses.

Nostalgia for the Rose Festival, like most attempts at civic pride, is probably bullshit. (Remember that Smith’s song “Rose Parade” featured a drunken trumpeter and trading a cigarette for food stamps.) But how such a kitschy tradition fits into Portland’s future is an interesting tension.

We decided to explore it—by sending Dr. Know into the carnival tripping on psilocybin mushrooms.

That seemed as good a means as any to mix Portland’s favorite traditions—parades and drugs—given that such a puckish adventure, found on page 14, is in the DNA of alt-weeklies. (This week’s cover headline is taken from Hunter S. Thompson’s legendary visit of the Kentucky Derby.)

We’ve also addressed other points of friction, from the federal dollars propping up the festival (page 17) to the carbon footprint of Fleet Week (page 21). We reviewed the attempt to revive a beer festival at the carnival (page 16) and caught up with the Rose Parade’s staunchest defender (page 21).

We even dedicated our vacant-property column, Chasing Ghosts, to the question whether the festival headquarters betrays a lack of civic imagination (page 20). We didn’t resolve the matter, but we hope we gave city leaders something to chew on besides a turkey leg (that’s also on page 16).

ARE YOU READY TO ENTER AN OLD RITUAL THROUGH A NEW DOOR OF PERCEPTION?

SAY YES.

BAZAAR TALES: CityFest’s final weekend is June 9-11