PORTLAND, Ore. — The city of my birth is known these days for a lot of things.

Yes, there’s the rain.

It also is known for coffee houses on (seemingly) most street corners, lots of people on bicycles, lush parks, a downtown district that is full of life and vitality . . . and microbreweries, where they serve craft beer that’s brewed in the back room.

I haven’t, until right now, mentioned the volcanic peaks along the Cascade Range that one can see on sunny days.

I’ve laid out the good stuff. Here’s something quite unusual some friends and I discovered this past Sunday.

We found it at one of those breweries — which I was told is a popular pub in northeast Portland. My friends had recommended this place as a pub “where they happen to serve pretty good food.” So we went there expecting to get in ahead of the Super Bowl Sunday crowd that would be piling in to watch The Big Game, swill a few brews and perhaps get a little louder than they otherwise might get.

We arrived at the place at 2:30 p.m., about an hour before kickoff.

Then we saw a sign on the door.

“Closing at 3 p.m. on Sunday, Feb. 7.”

Huh? What? Who does that? What kind of business would close on what arguably might be the busiest, most lucrative, most financially advantageous day of the year?

This place would. And did. Apparently.

My friends and I were stunned at this revelation.

So . . . we turned around, walked out, and went looking for another venue for a late lunch and some adult beverages. We found one not terribly far away.

Upon reflection, though, I have determined that the owner of the pub that closed on Super Bowl Sunday must be wealthy enough to be able to afford to shut the doors on a day when he or she could have made a lot of money.

Or perhaps he or she just doesn’t give a flying  rip about a stinkin’ football game.