The Beginning

by Annie Vieira 

Richard Branson famously said, “business opportunities are like busses, there’s always another one coming.” These words––spoken by one of the world’s preeminent businessmen––have since become a frequently parroted mantra of entrepreneurs everywhere. When two of my closest friends recently shared the plan behind their own fledgling business, I couldn’t help but find some amusement in the undeniable pertinence of Branson’s words. There’s always another one coming... Enter: Double Decker PDX, the company’s young, idealistic co-owners, Brooks Thompson and Kent Metcalf, and their big, red bus standing two stories high. 

It is a strange time to be 22. In the last year, as they have graduated college or gone out in pursuit of careers, I have watched as my friends and peers have teetered on the dividing line between adolescence and adulthood. It is a scary time in anyone’s life, yet this generation also has the added hurdle of entering this new stage when the present state of our economy is––to put it kindly––less than ideal. Furthermore, with Oregon currently boasting the second highest unemployment rate, it can be incredibly daunting to venture out into a cold, harsh world where jobs are scarce and opportunities are rare. Given these realities, one might assume a person would have to either be incredibly foolish or incredibly brave to consider starting a new business––much less a luxury, charter company––and it is my belief that Brooks and Kent are the latter.

Under the circumstances, I somehow thought there might be more of a sense of competition as we head out into that abyss of unknown that is our futures. Instead, Double Decker PDX is an example of the support among all of us––the palpable feeling that somehow we are all in this together. At the core of this company is an impenetrable friendship that demonstrates the unwavering confidence Brooks and Kent have in, not only themselves, but each other. In addition, they have reached out and shown that same confidence and support in the dreams and futures of their friends: When they could have hired an established web-designer, they instead enlisted a college buddy to create their website; And similarly, they put their trust in me––an aspiring writer––to act as their voice and to document their experiences as they continue to build, nurture, and develop a company from the ground up. 

As I said, it is my opinion that Brooks Thompson and Kent Metcalf are incredibly brave. Regardless of the outcome, they will carry this experience with them into everything they do. The lessons they are learning today, the knowledge they are gaining, the adventures they are having––these are the things that will shape their lives and the people they are in the future. It is a privilege to be a part of Double Decker PDX in any facet, and I look forward to acting as a window into the occasional hilarity as well as the hard learned lessons, both which inevitably come with taking a chance and attempting to build something new––and perhaps, one day, something great.

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The Boys

by Annie Vieira

In the most serendipitous of occurrences, I am currently writing this while sitting at the site of Double Decker PDX’s first office. Although a roommate and I have since taken over the lease on this tiny apartment a block from the University of Oregon campus, traces of evidence indicate the existence of previous life within these rooms. Tiny holes where panel pins once fastened an idea board to the living room wall, worn couch cushions as a result of hours logged brainstorming, faint imprints of handwriting pressed into the kitchen table from business meetings held over dinner––all collateral damage of building a company in the spare moments between preexisting obligations like classes, studying, and homework. Now what was the original home and nucleus of Double Decker PDX, has become my own home and inadvertently the epicenter for the company’s blog. And like so many pieces of the Double Decker PDX puzzle, this progression can sometimes feel like more than mere coincidence. In fact, for those of us who have known Brooks and Kent since they met their freshman year at Lincoln High School, the creation of this company certainly feels like the inevitable next step, or perhaps––if you believe in that sort of thing––fate. 

By that notion, it could be argued that my own association with Double Decker PDX has been almost two decades in the making––beginning with that first time I looked across the playground of our elementary school and saw a sharp-tongued, sandy-haired little boy by the name of Brooks Thompson. With beautiful olive skin and an impossibly flirtatious grin, Brooks is nothing if not charming. Yet, that handsome, charming boy also has a knack for trouble––finding it, creating it, reveling in it. Overall, Brooks is an incredible anomaly––a combination of ridiculous hilarity with an innate, enviable resourcefulness. It is easy to make the mistake of judging Brooks too quickly––to get lost in the absurdity his often unfiltered chatter, or simply write him off as the life of the party––but undoubtedly, those who stick around long enough, those who look beyond the surface, will find themselves unfailingly reminded of how competent, capable, and bright this man actually is. 

Kent, on the other hand, while by no means quiet, is at the very least the much more mild-mannered of the two. Although undeniably handsome in his own right (tall and blond with all-american good looks), what has always struck me most about Kent Metcalf is that he is exceedingly kind. I met Kent when we were both starting our first year of high school, and since have watched him grow from a self-effacing 14 year-old into a confident adult. In a world of affectations, Kent is one of the most truly genuine people I have ever known––the type of guy to greet you with a firm handshake, a person who looks you in the eye when you’re talking, someone who makes you feel as though he sincerely happy to see you. With Kent, there are no pretenses––what you see is what you get. Pragmatic and levelheaded, he is a person with whom I would trust just about anything.

No matter what product or service it offers, a business is only as good as the people running it––and Brooks and Kent, simply as individuals, give this company a solid foundation from which to begin. After meeting on the lacrosse field almost nine years ago, the two have managed to form one of those exceedingly rare friendships fueled by mutual respect and appreciation. More often than not, I see friendships that are plagued by undertones of covetousness or personal insecurities––feasible reasoning for the age-old belief that friendship and business do not mix. However, I have had the unique opportunity to observe Kent and Brooks in both their social and working environments and after some contemplation I believe I have pinpointed what it is exactly that makes their relationship so successful in both arenas––in a word: Trust.

It was unsurprising when Brooks and Kent chose to go into business with each other rather than applying for jobs with existing companies like so many of their peers. Not only had they seen the first-hand benefits as both were raised by parents who are self-employed, but they also have a long history of respective and joined entrepreneurship. After successfully running TM Endeavors (a car detailing, landscaping, and residential window washing business) together for seven years, Brooks and Kent already know each others’ strengths, weaknesses, and skills, and continue to use that knowledge to the benefit of Double Decker PDX. In this case, I anticipate that the merging of friendship and business will continue to be an advantage rather than a hindrance. There is a good balance between them––while Brooks oversees the mechanics and renovations pertaining to the actual bus, Kent labors over their financial models and business plan; if Brooks is the fantasist, Kent is the one who keeps them grounded in reality. 

In the end, however, this all only the opinion of one woman––I can’t offer you more than my own view based on my own experiences. But if you want to truly know what type of people Brooks and Kent are, I invite you all to knock on my door and take a look around the cramped college apartment where it all started. In just over three months, Brooks and Kent took what began as a far-fetched idea between roommates and turned it into a tangible reality with nothing more than their own hard work and merit––and at the risk of revealing something personal, I must admit I am jealous. I am not jealous of their business or of the work that they are doing, but I am jealous of the incredible courage it takes to roll the dice and bet everything you have on nothing more than your own potential. To me, it says more about the measure of a man––more than any success they might have or any amount of money they stand to make––to have the mettle to gamble on yourself, and then to have the strength of character to hold yourself accountable and to see that through. 

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The Business

by Annie Vieira

The ancient Mesopotamian civilization of Sumer is largely accepted by historians to be the first complex society developed by man. The Sumerians are credited with many of the innovations that continue to be an integral part of present day human existence, including the invention of a brewed liquid called “sikaru”––a substance we English-speakers now refer to as “beer.” Perhaps it is no coincidence that the civilization to give us this tasty beverage was the same civilization to provide us with the first records of oral and written communication, a system of numbers, timekeeping, trade, travel, science, and even clothing. As a matter of fact, drinking and thinking––although seemingly conflicting enterprises––actually have a long history of cohesiveness: those resourceful Mesopotamians worshiped the beer goddess Ninkasi, celebrated poets like Horace and Oliver Goldsmith credited some of their best writing to synchronous drinking, even Thomas Jefferson wrote the first draft of the Declaration of Independence while seated in a tavern; And maybe more fittingly, the initial concept of Double Decker PDX can now be added to that list. 

I guess you could say that from the very beginning, Double Decker PDX has been about one fundamental thing: the party––an area in which Brooks Thompson and Kent Metcalf have an undeniable expertise. Originally, the idea piqued Brooks’ interest during a friend’s birthday party aboard a bus owned but what will now be one of the company’s main competitors. An entrepreneur to the core, he spent the evening celebrating while simultaneously probing the driver with questions. Even my own collaboration with Double Decker PDX was initiated over a frothy beer mug during a casual evening out. Generally speaking, I can think of few people better qualified to run a company whose primary purpose is to show people a good time. As recent graduates, Brooks and Kent have spent the last four and half years at the University of Oregon building their resume as bona fide entertainers. I must admit that many of my own favorite memories from college somehow involve either a party at their house or a night out with the duo. That said, however, the question has never been whether or not Brooks and Kent are qualified as entertainers (I challenge anyone who doubts this notion to spend an evening out with these two and then reevaluate that opinion); Rather, the more weighty question is whether two green, 22 year-old boys barely out of college, possess the imperative resources, qualities, and skills needed to establish and run a successful company. 

Although I have always known Brooks and Kent to be hard workers, what has been most impressive during our preliminary interactions outside the social arena is their incontrovertible professionalism. Let us not lose sight of the fact that this is their livelihood, as neither Brooks nor Kent have neglected that truth. Yes, they are creating a company catered toward recreation and leisure but this is also their job and future––a reality they do not take lightly. In fact it is only by happenstance that their path led them into an entertainment related field. Their initial thought was to go into real estate in some form––Brooks’ father owns a Portland based architecture firm and Kent’s father is a successful contractor, so it seemed like a good fit. They even looked into purchasing properties in Corvallis and Eugene to lease as college rentals only to quickly discover it was a dying market. Despite job offers and other opportunities, if Brooks and Kent gained one common piece of knowledge from their respective work experiences, it was that they coveted more than a career in the typical office environment. Refusing to give up on the dream of stimulating self-employment, Brooks approached Kent with the idea of purchasing a double decker bus. As Double Decker PDX slowly began to take shape during their last 10 week term of college, they discovered an excitement and passion for their company that went beyond the simple desire to show people a good time. Instead, they fell in love with their vision of restoring something vintage and historic and fusing it with the sleek and new, they fell in love with the feeling of complete satisfaction that comes with creating something from your own hard work, and most importantly they fell in love with double decker busses.

The statement, “We have purchased a double decker bus,” can unsurprisingly cause a propensity to stare blankly or stifle laughter. People often doubt what is new and unknown and like all who think outside the box, whose visions fall beyond the bounds of the conventional or ordinary, Double Decker PDX has been met with some skepticism. Brooks and Kent have the unwavering support and confidence of their families and friends, but to the rest of the population their ultimate success or failure is swathed in the passing of time. And who knows? Maybe one day, like those crafty Sumerians with their crazy, unfounded ideas about things like clothes and math and literature, when double decker busses are lining the streets of Portland as the premier form of inner-city travel, people will tell the lore of those crazy, young boys who decided to buy the very first big, red double decker bus. 

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The Bus

by Annie Vieira

I was surfing the internet a few days ago when I stumbled upon a link that read, “Here Come the Double Deckers.” I clicked, of course, and up popped a video of seven grinning kids, singing, dancing, and inviting me to: Get on board! Get on board! Come and join the Double Deckers! Take a ticket for a journey on our double decker London bus. Ring the bell (ding ding). Toot the horn (honk honk). When you ride with the Double Deckers, fun and laughter is what we're after, on our double, double, double decker bus... I quickly discovered that the link was to a 1970’s British television show in which a group of kids––Brains, Billie, Sticks, Tiger, Scooper, Spring, and Doughnut––have adventures in their club house, a big, red double decker bus. As I watched the episode, it occurred to me that the choice of a double decker bus for the gang’s fort was likely more than mere coincidence––it is a place that feels extraordinary, where anything could happen. The allure of the double decker goes beyond the appeal of its enormity or its distinct appearance, rather it is the experience in its entirety. In an article for the British newspaper, The Guardian, novelist James Meek once wrote that the double decker bus was, “the perfect seat for dreamers”––a description which could not have more accurately fit my own first ride. 

Finding the right bus to buy was an adventure in and of itself for Brooks and Kent, but those are stories for another day. After locating and purchasing their bus, it appropriately arrived at the Union Pacific Railroad yard in Portland like a delivered gift on Christmas Eve. Following days of shipping complications, unbearable anticipation, and endless waiting, I headed out 1-5 with Brooks, Kent, and their families to watch them unload the bus from its giant shipping container. 

Despite the freezing temperatures, the morning could not have been more perfect. As we pulled in, the air was dense with an ethereal fog, and a delicate frost gently kissed the grass and buildings surrounding the train yard. It was clearly unusual for such a large group to attend a generally uneventful container unloading, and the woman at the gate smiled curiously at us beneath her matted hair and missing, mangled teeth as she checked us in. We parked the cars next to a titanic sized yellow shipping container, appropriately marked with the words “Forward Thinking” across its side. A group of about 10 young workers, not much older than Brooks, Kent, and myself, had evidently stayed behind exclusively to help unload the bus. Although they, along with their supervisor Larry (who we later fondly referred to as “From the Waist Up” Larry, due do his aversion for having his shorts-clad legs captured in a photograph), had unselfishly sacrificed part of their holiday on Brooks and Kent’s behalf, you would never have known it. Never underestimate the universal magnitude of boyish fascination with new toys––especially when that new toy is a big machine. There was something ineffably beautiful about it––as though for a moment, this group of 20-something guys became kids again. It didn’t matter who they were or where they came from, for a time they were just a group of excited boys, laughing, high-fiving, and jumping into pictures together. 

The plan appeared simple: since the diesel engine had trouble starting in the cold, they would chain the bus to the back of a pickup truck and tow it out of the container and down the ramp. However, if Brooks and Kent have learned anything during the last few months, it is that nothing is ever as straightforward as it seems––why should unloading the bus be any exception? It is difficult for me to properly explain the absurdity of the following circumstances, but imagine for a moment that you are looking down the expanse of a shipping container large enough to house a double decker bus four times over, and you see a tiny, white truck inching toward you, dragging along an enormous vehicle towering behind it. As the bus neared the container opening, I could hear the driver of the truck singing, Oh, oh, it’s magic, you knooo-ooowww, never believe it’s not soooo... 

When they reached the ramp, which was only about 20 yards away from a chain link fence, an unforeseen predicament became glaringly obvious: How to pull the bus down the ramp without crashing into either the fence or the truck pulling it? The moments that ensued were a blur of activity and yelling. As the bus began its descent, quickly gaining speed, all that registered were the sounds of tires squealing and panicked screams of, “Oh shit, the chains, the chains! Watch out for the chains!” When one of the workers instinctually threw himself between the truck and the bus in a vain attempt to use his barely 200 pound body to stop a 16,000 pound bus, I squeezed my eyes shut and repeated, Please don’t let anyone die for this, please don’t let anyone die for this, over and over in my mind. The last thing I remember was Brooks’ mother yelling out, “We need a prayer!” And by some grace, moments later, the bus sat safely unscathed on the pavement and the group surrounding it stood amazingly unmaimed and damage free. 

I went on a coffee run with Brooks and Kent’s mothers while the capable men stayed behind, attempting to jump start the bus with “From the Waist Up” Larry’s F150. The image in my mind when we returned an hour later, hot coffees in hand, is one that will stay with me forever: From the road you could see the big, red bus doing victory laps in the parking lot. As we neared I could see Brooks beaming behind the wheel, and Kent leaning out the open door, arms spread to catch the wind, wearing the biggest grin I have ever seen and a face plastered with pure, unadulterated joy. 

Shortly after, I rode with Kent and Brooks in the bus on the way to a celebratory lunch. From the top story, I looked down at the crown of neighboring semi-trucks, and could see for miles in every direction as we climbed through the fog and emerged under the tall, gothic towers of the St. John’s bridge. Driving through town, people’s heads turned, children smiled and waved, and other drivers honked in greeting. There was something undoubtedly magic about the double decker bus; Even just in passing, the sight seemed to give the whispered promise of adventure. It became evident to me why such a business appealed to Kent and Brooks––it is an unparalleled perspective as you look out over the city and the passing sights, occupying that perfect seat for dreamers. And, even if just for the duration of that ride, the possibilities seem to stretch out before you in an endless stream of potential and anticipation. 

Portland party bus. Party bus portland. Double decker bus portland. Portland’s party bus. Party bus. Limo portland. Portland limo.



Keep On Keepin' On

by Annie Vieira

In most of my posts thus far, I have probably mentioned, reemphasized, and perhaps tiresomely regurgitated, how passionate Brooks and Kent are about Double Decker PDX. And not just passionate––I’m sure my praise of their proficiency, professionalism, and all around splendor, has at the very least grown mildly insipid. But in these early months, with the substantial enthusiasm and excitement the company has already garnered from the community, I can understand the ease with which the two have managed to remain confidently sanguine. In fact, their optimism had me so staunchly committed to the impression that they might somehow be incapable of failure, I seem to have neglected the tiniest of details––specifically, the fallible nature of being human. 

When you’re fresh out of college, for many individuals, a certain amount of cockiness is fairly standard first-job behavior. You know the newest technologies, the newest policies and benchmarks, you’re sharper, faster, hungrier, and I’ll be damned if you’re not better looking. Of course people take their bosses for granted. Why wouldn’t you become resentful of that superior breathing down your neck? After all, he or she is simply a now obsolete version of you.

But alas, that day will inevitably come when you make a... gasp... mistake. There is a reason most of us start out at the bottom. It has nothing to do with skill or potential, but we must work our way up so that we can learn––so that by the time we are in a position of authority and it is our responsibility to shoulder the blame for any problem or error, we are equipped with the necessary experience to make the important decisions and the wisdom to know which direction to take. Business, like most things in life, cannot be taught in a classroom.

Yes, Brooks and Kent are lucky in many ways: they only have to answer to themselves, they make their own hours, rules, decisions, and direction. Yet, with that comes an immeasurable amount of pressure. And when you make one of those unavoidable mistakes, there is no one to turn to for advice and no safety net of knowledgeable superiors to Band-Aid it for you.

I think this realization has come gradually for Double Decker PDX. I hadn’t seen Brooks and Kent for about two weeks when we were finally able to meet for a quick cup of coffee last Sunday. Although, on the surface everything seemed business as usual, I could sense a palpable shift in their energy. Stress was painted across their faces and you could practically see the weight of responsibility bearing down. Watching them, I was reminded of a moment I had with Brooks the morning they picked up the bus from the train yard.

One of the things I didn’t mention last week was that, although it was fabulously poetic, the shipment was never scheduled for the morning of Christmas Eve. In reality, the bus was expected to arrive a few days prior, on Tuesday of that week. However, at about 9 pm on Monday evening I received a call from Kent. When I answered the phone, one of the last things I expected to hear was: “Annie, they lost the bus.”

As Kent explained it to me, he and Brooks had been regularly checking with From-the-Waist-Up Larry on the status of the bus’s journey. Due to it’s enormity, the bus was shipped in a specialty container of which––according to Larry––there are only a handful in existence. Mere moments after boasting about the infallible reliability of their computer tracking system, Larry typed in the necessary information only to find out that the bus was supposedly already in his yard. “Well that’s strange,” he told them, “because I can tell you it’s definitely not here.” And so marked the beginning to The Case of the Missing Double Decker Bus, a mystery which raises the question: How does one simply misplace a 16,000 pound vehicle––particularly one in a rare specialty container?

Although the container did eventually arrive in Portland and the problem was ultimately solved, this was just one in a series of setbacks and lessons Brooks and Kent endured while simply purchasing a bus. Mishaps of this nature can be amusing in their absurdity––they can be retold, laughed at, and enjoyed by your friends––things that seem to soften the blow of a problem. Yet, as you progress through the stages of building a business and begin to encounter mistakes and mishaps that are less anecdotal (like financial woes or logistical predicaments), I imagine it becomes increasingly difficult to find the amusement in the lesson. And, as time wears on and some of the initial outside enthusiasm and interest naturally begins to wane, where does one look for the strength and energy to remain resolute through it all?

As Brooks and I got in his car to drive to the train yard the morning of Christmas Eve, I witnessed his first fleeting glimmer of uncertainty. For the briefest of moments, he seemed slightly overcome by the sheer immensity of what he and Kent were on the cusp of doing. He paused for a moment before starting the car, took a deep breath, and said simply, “Well, I guess this is really happening.”

During that last meeting over coffee, it occurred to me that Brooks and Kent have entered what will likely prove to be one of the more difficult stages in this entire process. It is easy to remain motivated when you have either that boss breathing down your neck or people patting you on the back in encouragement––but for the moment Brooks and Kent have only themselves. With the exhilaration of newness mostly gone and only the lackluster remnants of that early anticipation, this is the time that will challenge their tenacity. The work they are doing now is largely behind closed doors and less thrilling on a daily basis. The excitement will probably rebuild once the renovations are complete and the business is up and running, but these next couple of months will be a testament to their steadfastness. This would be a challenging time for any company, but particularly for people at the age of Brooks, Kent, and me, who maybe have yet to learn the ability to see the bigger picture. The truth is we simply haven’t been on this earth long enough to fully understand what commitment really means––commitment through the mistakes, commitment through the monotonous stages, commitment when things are difficult or no longer fun, and commitment even when no one is holding your hand and no one is congratulating you every step of the way.

-Annie Vieira

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