If they could only see straight.
I'm obsessed with a show called Portlandia, that Fred Armisen and Carrie Brownstein are involved in, about Portland, Oregon. They nailed it! It's great, you should check it out. I have a bunch of friends and family that live there, so when I visited a few weeks ago, I was excited.
One thing I noticed while I was there is how friendly people are. Walking into a store I would be greeted with smiles and a how are you. They talked to me about their products and would ask if I needed any help, but in an unobtrusive way. When I patron stores here, I’ve been followed around, as if I’m some kind of specimen being analyzed. Of course, they’re worried I may steal something, but I don’t like being glared at and followed. I tend not to spend my money in a place that is so unfriendly.
Being on vacation makes me realize I attract bums and crazies everywhere I go. Moth to the flame baby! Moth to the flame! Who is the moth, and who is the flame in this situation, is unknown to me at this point though. My working theory is that they can smell the other bums on me. My sister, and the friends I was visiting, took me to a Karaoke bar called, Chopsticks, one night. As soon as I sat down, the one and only crazy drunk guy in there (I'm gonna call him a bum, since if you're drunk AND crazy in the Tenderloin, you're probably a bum) made a beeline for me. He started asking what I was drinking. I reverted to my normal response, ignore, ignore, ignore, and hope he goes A-way. The next day, while on Hawthorne, I was asked if I wanted to hear a poem for twenty-five cents. The bums in Portland want to sing me a song or read me a poem for 25 cents, while the bums in San Francisco want to throw things at me and punch me in the face.
The day I was leaving for Portland, I had lunch at Pearl’s Deluxe Burgers. While enjoying my delicious burger, a man in green pants, a blue sweater, backpack and bicycle helmet came into the restaurant demanding to get a replacement order of “Fringes,” a combo of onion rings and fries, since, (as he explained to the manager) when he came in three days ago and got takeout, his order of frings were missing. To sum up the situation, the manager explained to the man that he should have a receipt to show that he did indeed place an order, and suggested he should have called the same day and they would have replaced his order that day, not three days later, with no receipt. The manager explained that since the restaurant is on the cusp of the Tenderloin, they have many people coming in to try and garner free food. The bicycle helmet man argued with the manager until he called him a dumb-ass, and was immediately escorted out of the restaurant by the manager, who was significantly larger than the other man.
Our bums may be more direct and meaner, but coming home is interesting, experiencing the familiar smells and sights...B.O. and pooh, the bums at the civic center BART station, singing, and “playing” the violin. Oh, how I miss thee. Coming home, I wonder why I would ever want to leave, everything I could ever want is here. And you never know when your next meal will come with a free show!
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