Sunday, October 11, 2009
I'm having a quiet Saturday evening at home. Minding my own business, entering reports for work, and I hear what sounds like at least five super-bass boomboxes going, drums beating, assorted sundry sounds of unrecognized origin - there's about 30 freaks, in various states of undress, on bikes, some of them 10 feet tall, lights flashing all over them, hootin' and hollerin', couldn't tell if they were man or beast.
Gotta love it here!
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Working downtown my first four years here, one becomes accustomed to being "spare changed" - that is, being hit up for spare change by homeless people and street kids. I couldn't take a break from work without encountering downtown Portland's finest. It isn't uncommon to be asked six or seven times in the space of a block or two. I finally had enough and couldn't take it anymore. I barked defiantly at the next unfortunate who "spanged" me: "How about you giving me a quarter instead for a change!" Humbly, sincerely, the kid reached into the few coins he had, and offered me a quarter. Even the homeless are different out here.