When you Portland Google

So, I've met Portland's former mayor Sam Adams on three occasions. Most recently, it was simply on the street while walking downtown. Before this, I was dressed in red. But the first time I met him was the most significant.

Several years ago I made a major career change. Having completed the promised two weeks, I clocked out on Friday for the last time from a place I'd been working for about six years. We had a bash at a nearby bar to drown our goodbyes.

I'm a bit foggy about when or exactly how I heard about a special event happening the next day, perhaps it was a blurb in the Willamette Week seen at the bar, but I know it was last minute. Monday would see me start my new job, for which I'd soon leave the city, the state, and the country (in that order). This was a chance to make good for my adopted hometown on this very short, unemployed weekend.

Participation button

Here's the crux: Google was looking for a city to be it's Guinea pig. They wanted to install a new, high-speed fiberoptic system in a location that was willing to prove its worth. Portland decided to play this hand. I know there was aid from Hopworks, one of our local breweries, releasing the Gigabit IPA. But the good mayor had a different plan to "woo the goog."

In classic PDX spirit, he wanted to form an army of volunteers, stretching a line from Pioneer Square to as far across the river as we could reach. Then, at that furthest point, a message would be given to the last/first person in line, who would then pass it to the next person, and so on. The worlds largest game of telephone.

Great concept. Terrible execution.

Sadly, I don't think the word got out. As previously mentioned, I barely found it in time and from an obscure source. Apparently, not many others had heard the news either. Of the seven hundred or so they'd hoped to get, I'm pretty sure we had less than seventy. We gathered at the appointed place, at the appointed hour, and were greeted with disappointment at the small size of the crowd. We probably had enough people to line a single city block.

It was decided to go forward with the plan regardless. There would just be more... space... between the participants. We split-up along the proposed path and had to be about as far apart as you could imagine, you would just be able to make out the next person in the line from where you stood. Then the message started it's journey. The first person walked it down to the second, who walked it down to the third, etc. It was a carrier pigeon relay race, the baton a greasy, slippery phrase about Portland being a nice place for Google to work.

As the words made their way to the Square, Sam Adams waited to receive the final version. This honor was then given to my boy William, who provided his best interpretation despite the conditions being against us that day.

Even though this endeavor went belly up, the news crews got a cute ending.

Not waffling on gifting

So, when two threads of a conversation converge into one amazing idea, you know you're doing something right.

It all started when we crashed a birthday party by accident. Which, by the way, is a great way of making new friends.

The first thread involved carrying large, bulky objects and the total lack of convenience that they often have in their size, shape, and materials. One example presented: a waffle iron.

We also discussed the finer points of riding the Max light rail for extended periods. With long commutes, it is common to spend most of the time avoiding eye contact by burying our face in the four inch world of our phones. And what would be the worst fate imaginable on such a trip? That's right, your battery dying. Then you might actually have to talk to someone who is in the same space as you.

But what if there were outlets on the train that you could plug your device into, keeping it healthy for the rest of the day? Of course, such practical things could never become a reality. Often what stands in the way of progress is a large group of people trying to make a joint decision. But in this case it's really a question of abuse. You know everyone will bring their TV's, mini-fridges, portable AC's, and other appliances then spend all day on the train.

This is where things took a sudden turn. A waffle iron is another appliance. Wouldn't it be great to cook waffles on the Max?

"Well, you know," my wife interjects. "There are outlets under those towers that have the train schedules at the Max stops."

Wait! What?

WE CAN MAKE WAFFLES AT THE MAX STOP?!

We had to do this.

Plans were made to meet at a likely station downtown within the week. We went to Costco and purchased bulk waffle mix. We stirred up huge batches and headed downtown.

Disappointment greeted us immediately. There was no power in those outlets where we planned to set up shop. Luck was on our side, however, when it was discovered there was a live outlet in front of an adjacent and empty building. We plugged in and got to baking... Frying? Ironing.

Cooking up a tall stack, I'd take the fruits of our toil to Max trains as they arrived, offering our fresh, hot  treats to any who wanted one. This lead to looks of indifference and distrust, but also smiles and some that would actually accept! I would run onto a train as soon as the doors opened, sprint down the aisle holding out the goods between two paper towels making my call "Waffle? Waffle? Waffle?", then jump out as the doors were closing again.

Those who caught our stand on the sidewalk could not only get the waffle fresh off the press, they could claim some of the toppings that we'd brought along: maple syrup, whipped cream, strawberries, and bananas.

We called to the masses. We made signs. We walked up and down the streets to give the things away. Many a homeless person and street kid got a special treat that day. One person told us we were the most amazing thing he'd seen all week. Just one week? We weren't trying hard enough. Another person asked, "Why waffles?" I could only answer, "Because pancakes would be crazy."

In the end, we'd had a great deal of fun and made the day of an untold number of commuters. We've vowed to do it again and to apply some of the ideas and solutions we'd encountered along the way.