| | Alright kids, gather 'round the internet campfire- it's storytime. I should warn you, however, this story contains adult situations like driving in a car and was brought to you by dirty words that start with the letter "F." So make sure you have your milk warmed and your wool undies hiked up, because this one's going to get interesting. With those disclaimers in place, we proceed...
It was warm and wet tonight, and when it's like this in the Spring I like to drive around town with my windows down. I was coming back from an evening recording session at Quaker Gun World Headquarters¹ and, as I approached the intersection at 52nd and Division to turn right, I noticed a pedestrian making her way along the sidewalk in the same direction I was going. Being a law-abiding "nice guy"- at least when it's convenient- I stopped at the green light, blinker flashing, intending to allow her to safely pass before executing my turn. After all, this is Portland, the kind of place where we wait for our fellow drivers to let us in when merging on the freeway so that we can give them a well-earned "courtesy wave." I felt as though I was following firmly established neo-hippie road protocol, but apparently our pedestrian friend felt differently. The woman stopped, leaned in and squinted against the glare of the streetlights in order to get a good look at me. She was about 35, blond and wrinkly, and- when she opened her mouth to speak- the proud owner of maybe three teeth. "You might as well go first," she shouted, "'cause I'll be damned if you wait for me you fucking fagot." I can only imagine that her breath smelled like Arby's, and feel it to be convincing evidence of the existence of divine providence that she was not close enough to confirm or deny these suspicions. I wasn't quite sure what to do, but in the face of language that belligerent I think I remember neo-hippie protocol declaring every man for himself, so I made my turn and contemplated the transaction that just took place. I grew up in a very conservative part of Oregon, and I had never met anyone who would describe themselves as homosexual (at least that I was aware of) until I had moved away to college. A word like the one this woman used was used by ignorant people in my hometown for gentlemen with such gratuitous self-indulgences such as- oh I don't know- personal hygiene for instance. Against this backdrop, and especially given the fact that said crazy lady is obviously awfully ignorant, I couldn't help but take the verbal sucker-punch as a compliment. I'll just assume that she was noticing my deliberate effort to shower on a daily basis, and nothing more. As to my feelings for her, I couldn't help but think that some people could use a good hug. Or maybe just a toothbrush and a thump on the side of the head.
All right kids, that's my story and now it's time for bed. So good night, sleep tight, and dream of foul mouthed three-toothed beauties. I know I will.
¹By the way, for those of you out there who have yet to grow weary of throwing your hard earned grown-up money at my lingering adolescent attempts at artistic expression, album number 3 is officially in production. You heard it here first.
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| | Posted 3/20/2007 1:38 AM - 49 Views - 2 eProps - 1 Comment
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