Get me out of crazy-town, and Canada trip cancellation
Whew, what a crazy two weeks....Okay, last Tuesday, perhaps the strangest of all days. I decided to walk to a lecture from work to Oregon Health Sciences University. For those of you familiar with Portland, it might be better known as "Pill Hill"- anyway about 3 and a half miles from work, so I pretty good workout walking-wise there and back. I got to the auditorium, and unbeknowest to me, the lecture has been cancelled, so I head out down the hill, and I'm approaching the back of the Veteran's Hospital, and a man in red silk Chinese style pajamas, and a black eye patch seems to materialize from out of the woods, he has a cane and he is elderly. He is pretty wobbly, so I ask if he might need some help and if he is going to the Veteran's Hospital. He says, no he doesn't need help, he just left the Veteran's Hospital to come up and smoke.
Okay. Weird. I keep heading down the hill through a maze of parking lots and back to downtown past Duniway Park. As I'm passing the park a young girl, about 15 comes running across the park toward me and asks, "Do you have a cell phone? Can you dial 911?"
She's obviously alarmed, and I said sure, and dialed the number and started to follow her to the tree line at the back of the park. An older woman and a couple more kids come out of the trees excitedly speaking in Spanish. I look to the girl to translate, and she says, "All of our things were stolen- our car keys, everything!" The excited Spanish speaking continues as I talk to an equally dumb-founded 911 operator. Then, a young man emerges from the woods, he is sweaty and excited and joins in the group, speaking in Spanish, and waving some car keys around. The 911 operator is asking what is going on. I look pleadingly at the young girl who seems to be the only English speaker of the group, waiting for her to translate. She tells me her brother has recovered the keys from the white man who stole from them. The 911 operator gives me a non-emergency number so they can report the theft. I give the number to the girl, and they continue to speaking in Spanish. I say to them, "Well, I think I will be on my way." They take a break from their animated conversation, and almost in unison say "Thank you."
I head back through the city, and by this time its getting late, so I go into a restaurant and order a chicken sandwich. I don't what was going on, but I felt a little sick. I then felt really sick- so I jumped up and bolted from the table to the bathroom to puke. Anyway, I suppose I created a commotion because as I came out of the bathroom, a couple waiters were outside the door looking at me suspiciously and asking if I was okay. I felt like saying, "Well, other than the one-eyed veteran smoker in the silk pjs, the robbed Spanish-speaking family, the 911 call, and the puking, well, yea, I'm okay." Of course, I didn't say that, just "Fine." I then paid my bill and left. Mercifully, I was close to work and could use that bathroom unbothered. After using the bathroom, I left work and locked the main door. I yanked it and jiggled it because sometimes the lock doesn't quite catch.
Then a large man came out of the hotel door from across the street and yelled "Hey you f*****g
bitch, what the hell are you doing?" Glancing quickly around, I realize I'm the only woman on the street. The only thing that raced through my mind was "RUN!" - which I did.
Before you think that running is an over-reaction, the "hotel" across the street is actually a residence for people newly released from prison. And, my boss let me know that recently, one of the worst sex offenders in Oregon history is now living there. He's a big guy who rapes people at knife-point. I kinda wish he hadn't told me that. See, the last four years I've been comfortable across from the hotel, because I told myself that it is only for the wrongly accused, or the non-violent offenders, or hookers with hearts of gold....you know, the kind of "nice" reformed type of criminals you see in the movies reside at the hotel. It really burst my bubble. Hopefully, Mr. Rape-at-knifepoint is on the road to reform and I have nothing to fear....and truthfully, I've never had any real problems with the folks across the street.
Once I got home that night I nearly kissed the floor. My good exercise walk turned out to be more than I bargained for...
Then, I was supposed to go to Canada, to pick up Allie, but my sister brought her down to my folks place in Bend. So, it was a great couple of days to visit in Bend, hang out with the kids. I took the kids to the movies to see "Herbie: Fully Loaded"- you might remember Herbie the little VW from the Herbie the love bug movies from the early 70s. This was an okay, typical Disney feature. Cute and the kids seemed to like it.
Of course, my walks frought with danger had to continue even in Bend. I went walking a long a path across the river from my parents place, and my sister called my cell phone. She asked where I was and I waved, and she said "I can see you and there is a cougar about 60 feet below you by the river."
I decided to walk on. Cougar, whatever!... I drove back from Bend today, with my girl to bring her back home. The drive- uneventful. Thank God!
Okay. Weird. I keep heading down the hill through a maze of parking lots and back to downtown past Duniway Park. As I'm passing the park a young girl, about 15 comes running across the park toward me and asks, "Do you have a cell phone? Can you dial 911?"
She's obviously alarmed, and I said sure, and dialed the number and started to follow her to the tree line at the back of the park. An older woman and a couple more kids come out of the trees excitedly speaking in Spanish. I look to the girl to translate, and she says, "All of our things were stolen- our car keys, everything!" The excited Spanish speaking continues as I talk to an equally dumb-founded 911 operator. Then, a young man emerges from the woods, he is sweaty and excited and joins in the group, speaking in Spanish, and waving some car keys around. The 911 operator is asking what is going on. I look pleadingly at the young girl who seems to be the only English speaker of the group, waiting for her to translate. She tells me her brother has recovered the keys from the white man who stole from them. The 911 operator gives me a non-emergency number so they can report the theft. I give the number to the girl, and they continue to speaking in Spanish. I say to them, "Well, I think I will be on my way." They take a break from their animated conversation, and almost in unison say "Thank you."
I head back through the city, and by this time its getting late, so I go into a restaurant and order a chicken sandwich. I don't what was going on, but I felt a little sick. I then felt really sick- so I jumped up and bolted from the table to the bathroom to puke. Anyway, I suppose I created a commotion because as I came out of the bathroom, a couple waiters were outside the door looking at me suspiciously and asking if I was okay. I felt like saying, "Well, other than the one-eyed veteran smoker in the silk pjs, the robbed Spanish-speaking family, the 911 call, and the puking, well, yea, I'm okay." Of course, I didn't say that, just "Fine." I then paid my bill and left. Mercifully, I was close to work and could use that bathroom unbothered. After using the bathroom, I left work and locked the main door. I yanked it and jiggled it because sometimes the lock doesn't quite catch.
Then a large man came out of the hotel door from across the street and yelled "Hey you f*****g
bitch, what the hell are you doing?" Glancing quickly around, I realize I'm the only woman on the street. The only thing that raced through my mind was "RUN!" - which I did.
Before you think that running is an over-reaction, the "hotel" across the street is actually a residence for people newly released from prison. And, my boss let me know that recently, one of the worst sex offenders in Oregon history is now living there. He's a big guy who rapes people at knife-point. I kinda wish he hadn't told me that. See, the last four years I've been comfortable across from the hotel, because I told myself that it is only for the wrongly accused, or the non-violent offenders, or hookers with hearts of gold....you know, the kind of "nice" reformed type of criminals you see in the movies reside at the hotel. It really burst my bubble. Hopefully, Mr. Rape-at-knifepoint is on the road to reform and I have nothing to fear....and truthfully, I've never had any real problems with the folks across the street.
Once I got home that night I nearly kissed the floor. My good exercise walk turned out to be more than I bargained for...
Then, I was supposed to go to Canada, to pick up Allie, but my sister brought her down to my folks place in Bend. So, it was a great couple of days to visit in Bend, hang out with the kids. I took the kids to the movies to see "Herbie: Fully Loaded"- you might remember Herbie the little VW from the Herbie the love bug movies from the early 70s. This was an okay, typical Disney feature. Cute and the kids seemed to like it.
Of course, my walks frought with danger had to continue even in Bend. I went walking a long a path across the river from my parents place, and my sister called my cell phone. She asked where I was and I waved, and she said "I can see you and there is a cougar about 60 feet below you by the river."
I decided to walk on. Cougar, whatever!... I drove back from Bend today, with my girl to bring her back home. The drive- uneventful. Thank God!
posted by moegirl at
4:52 PM
1 Comments:
Um, Stacy, ... Yikes! I am not sure which is scarier, the cougar or the insane, violent guy who seems to live across the street from your place of employment. Actually, the crazy guy wins. No contest. Doesn't Wisconsin look better and better? Just rogue deer to watch out for.
By
Diana, At
2:25 PM
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