Hitched

Even though the legendary Monte Carlo Restaurant no longer exists (it was destroyed by fire in early '02), not all was lost when the Southeast Belmont Street Italian eatery-cum-nightclub went up in flames.

Liz McCoy remembers eating there as a kid with her dad. When she grew up, this Portland native spent time dancing there after the in-crowd adopted its kitschy décor, turning it into another '90s retro haunt. It was there that she'd see a tattoo-clad, cowboy-hat-wearing guy hamming it up on the dance floor on weekend nights. He was always smiling, and she was drawn to his big, blue eyes.

Lucky for her, he was also checking her out.

He was Chris McCoy. He liked Liz's look--short dark hair, deep brown eyes, alt-something fashion sense.

One hot summer night in '99, this enterprising single guy decided to make his move. Just as Liz, then 24, was attempting an exit from the dance floor, Chris pulled her back for one more boogie. She obliged the one dance--but that was it. It was an anonymous encounter.

Liz remembers that her friends were curious. "When we were leaving they asked, 'Who is that crazy guy?' I told them I didn't know," she says.

Both returned the next weekend, and once again, Chris spied Liz dancing to the club's '70s and '80s musical smorgasbord and snagged another dance. After that, they talked, and Liz scribbled her phone number on a napkin despite the fact the Chris was, essentially, a stranger. Her crew was wary.

"I'd seen him a few times, and he seemed OK," despite the misgivings of her suspicious cousins, Liz recalls. But she included a disclaimer with her note, writing "I don't usually do this" just before jotting down the digits.

Chris called the next day, asking for a date. From that date, a relationship was born. Liz says she'd never gone out with anyone like Chris before. He was artistic and extremely energetic, a longtime surfer and skateboarder. A little wary of the weight of first impressions, though, she made sure to warn her mother about the large-ish tattoo on Chris' upper arm prior to the meet-the-parents introductions. Mom was, apparently, unfazed. "After she met him, she said to me, 'I think that's the nicest tattoo I've ever seen!'" Liz says.

In January of '02, Chris heard the news that the Monte Carlo was burning. He worked nearby and rushed over to witness the destruction. A few days later, the couple returned to the charred shell to take a photo of the remains before it was eventually razed.

Despite the fact that the Monte Carlo was out of sight, for Chris, at least, the place was not out of mind. As he was preparing to propose to Liz last spring, he started a painting of the restaurant. Around this time, he also started scheming.

Just before Liz's birthday last May, he told her that a work colleague had a voucher for a night at downtown's Hotel Vintage Plaza, so how about spending the night there for her birthday?

Liz loved the idea, and Chris arranged to pick her up on her birthday. Before dinner, the two stopped in at the hotel. Inside the room, iced champagne and a bed topped with rose petals impressed Liz, but she was also curious about a large, covered easel. Though Liz was anxious to find out what Chris was hiding, she'd have to wait until after the meal to uncover the secret.

When the easel was eventually unmasked to reveal an abstract rendition of the Monte Carlo in reds, greens and yellows, tears welled in Liz's eyes over the sheer nostalgia of the image. Before she could catch her breath, Chris had another surprise. Look where the restaurant's door is supposed to be, he said, and you'll find something more than painted canvas. He'd cut a hole in the door, and behind it lay an engagement ring and his proposal.

Despite the fact that their restaurant had perished, this couple still managed to get engaged at the Monte Carlo, and the painting now rests in their Gladstone home.

WWeek 2015