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.

Portland's Pants-less Parade

So, I've previously discussed my appreciation for the unclothed form. And I'll admit, I have no aversion to wearing less than the full complement of attire. So there are some opportunities that I can't pass up. But in January? Really?

Well, finally, I would not let the cold of winter allow me to chicken out once again. You see, for many years Portland has participated in a nation wide phenomenon. It all started in New York as a prank by the folks at Improve Everywhere eleven years ago. The idea is simple:

1. Get on a public transit train (in NY this means the Subway, in PDX it's the Max).
2. Take your pants off.
3. Pretend like nothing out of the ordinary has happened.

Of course, doing this during some of the chilliest weather of the season seems like madness, but that's part of the charm. It is far more difficult to feign ignorance to a lack of trousers when there are goosebumps on your thighs. The forecast called for near freezing temperatures, but I could not let even the ice on the sidewalk deter me. 

I had some choices to make as I prepared to head downtown: what to wear, what to unwear? Perhaps this is a case of TMI (so you may want to skip over the rest of this paragraph), but I'm a boxers man. In the lead up to the event I had pretty much settled on wearing my pirate shorts with their little Jolly Rogers with red hearts for eyes. Cute, right? My wife made a slight hint that I should go for the silky ones instead. Suddenly: inspiration! I have Santa boxers. Which would keep me warm with their white fringe (totally legit). The musical jingle bells would be a plus. I dressed in a santa-ish t-shirt and my santa hat to complete the look.

The plan was to meet at the designated location at the appointed time. I was running behind due to a conflict with a gym class and got there just in time for the reporter from Fox news to finish interviewing a friend (missed this opportunity to be on TV, but my wife and friends are there, so kudos to them). No one was without pants yet, but we were filling our bodies with warming liquids.

Like lemmings we marched on Pioneer Square and hit the east bound Max train. Once we were all aboard, we dropped trou. And boy did the strangers on the train get a show. There were many oohs, ahhs, and laughs from those unwittingly witness to our gag. Invitations to join in the festivities were brushed off with a blushing giggle or a coy smile. Complements were shared on our choice of attire. Plenty of geek cred was handed out. And, as the rules stipulated, not a thong was in sight. 

We rode the train to the Lloyd Center stop and got out to prance about near the park. We started showing off for each other and for the innocent bystanders, mall rats, and the disheveled youths who gathered to gawk and stare. After a bit of tomfoolery, we boarded the westward light rail to head back to our point of origin. A much shorter trip had us at the Square once more where we paused for a group photo or two. 

On the march back to the bar, we stopped in front of a fancy restaurant to do the Can-can.

Having gotten public displays out of our systems, and with the darkening sky descending upon us, we returned to home base for pant-less libations and dancing. There was a contest to show off our moves, but I failed to make the cut (fifth of four). In the end, the festivities are much warmer than you may imagine, you spend most of your time indoors, you're very active, and the people your are with are simply fantastic.

So, what about you? Would you ever do something so against the grain of common society? Something off the wall that others may find offensive even though it's harmless?

Afternoon of the Dead

So, some days you just wake up dead-tired. You shuffle about seemingly without direction and are lucky to get started by noon. Your clothes are torn. Your face is haggard. Next thing you know, there is blood everywhere.

Don't you just love those kinds of days?

Now, zombies may be over-played and cliché, but I don't think they'll ever not be fun.

At the behest of friends, and despite the drama that may occur with other friends, I attended the October event from the Stumptown Crawlers. This was the 2nd Annual Zombies & Monsters Pub Crawl. (I was in attendance for the 1st Annual last year as well).

Where would the drama come from? Well, I attend a lot of events which are run by different groups or organizations (corporations?). And some of these groups have taken issue with some of the other groups for the theft of ideas, who's making what money, exploitation, misunderstandings, and all the other rubbish that lead to the Hatfields and Mccoys duking it out. My attendance was not meant to snub anyone, nor a means of showing support to someone else. I am not about to get involved in the politics of the matter. Maybe so-and-so is a douche to whatshisname. It matters not to me. I went to have fun with my friends.

Now that we've gotten that disclaimer out of the way, let's talk about what went down that day.

My wife isn't into horror, guts, and all that rot, so she sat this one out. Instead, my friend Laurie was going to be my date for the evening. She came over to our place so we could destroy the wedding dress she made to get married to the scumbag she recently divorced. I slashed apart a hand-me-down suit from my father-in-law. We were a truly torn up couple.

Heading downtown on the Max I attempted to perfect my dead-eyed stare, but couldn't help cracking a smile before really creeping anyone out. Arrival at the first bar was almost exactly on time for the official start (one of my most disgusting habits). The bar staff was all done up in zombie/monster style, and there was a make-up service on hand to professionally augment anyone who wanted it. Here we met our friend Velocity, a member of Niall's Zombie Control Service. It is only though the efforts of this team that any hope of keeping a massive, shambling hoard in order is remotely possible.

After a couple drinks and meeting even more friends (some dressed as the post-apocalypse version of the Scooby Doo gang) we moved outside to pickup our undead protest signs. I wanted one that said "Zombies are people too" and searched through the stack to find: "Zombies were Human too"! Someone had pre-read my mind. (Later, someone edited it to say "Zombies, we're Human too", but at least I got to put a big, bloody hand print on it.) Then we dragged the crowd to, and through, Portland's living room to fight for our ghoulish rights. I, in true zombie fashion, performed a dead leg limp, which gave me considerable trouble at every curb while crossing streets. Did you know that brain eating is our right? Well, there was a sign...

A quick fuel stop was made (where I saw signs for both "rage" and "brains", and it had nothing to do with us) before heading down to the real heart of the storm. A shack for the voodoo spirits, who may have been the reason we continue to walk the earth, held a couple surprises.

First, we had a gentleman preaching loudly on the corner. His sign said something about blood and "at-one-ment" but it was what he said that was so much more entertaining. Not sure what it was about but when he would use words like "resurrection" or "eternal life", I would echo him quite loudly. The folks in line also found this entertaining and I ended up on the cell phones of uncounted strangers.

Second, I tried playing a massive game of Twister. Not easy to breath in a suit that's a couple sizes too small when tied in a knot. (The small size of the suit contributed beautifully to destroy my coordination and lead to a more authentic shuffle).

Next came the den of inequity where a miniture version of Marilyn Manson helped to rip pages from the Bible and stuff them down the bra of a cyber goth woman. This entertained me just long enough to be informed that there was a bus waiting outside, with free liquor, and a trip to another bar. A sort of side mission to buzz in and out of another location before returning to the rest of the crowd who would completely miss out on this adventure. They had me at free liquor.

Our bus ended up driving to no location in particular. We drove a couple laps around downtown and simply returned to our starting point. At least I got to drink for free.

Next, we headed to another fortified location and met a zombified Rocky Horror group. When people started dancing on the table tops, Laurie and I joined them. I was then told that only women were allowed to dance on the table. Sexist! Not interested in having any trouble, I let the issue lie... for several minutes. I did a quick tour of the facilities and returned to find a guy up on the tables. Fair game! I jumped up, the guy mysteriously disappeared, and I was once again told no gentlemen on the tables. Shortly after, I got one more drink and closed out my tab. While waiting for the check this mysterious woman appears and starts dancing against me. Not super flirty, but more than simply bumping into someone in line. She takes a sip from my drink. Sure, why not. I sign my check. Poof! She's gone with my drink! Your little bump and grind was not enough to qualify you for a free drink! I didn't even get your name! I am Jack's righteous indignation.

Our final destination, the terminal point as it were, was a second den of ill repute (but the place where someone will most likely buy me a drink). Here I got a chance to talk to the fine folks from Zaico. They sell insurance for the eventuality of a zombie apocalypse. This idea sounded a bit familiar... They said they could sign me up for a policy. I informed them I had a pre-existing condition.

After a nice talk I ended up on the dance floor because they started playing Thriller, a song for which I know a few of the dance moves (which reminds me, I'll have to tell you about THAT adventure too). This was followed by Dead Man's Party and some other zombie oldies but goodies.

Having wore my self out considerably, I arranged for a ride to a friend's house where a karaoke party was in progress. However, I found myself unable to sing due to a hoarse voice from moaning all day long. Despite the trials and tribulations of the evening, I managed to hold onto my protest sign all along the way.