Archive for May, 2009

They Don’t Make ‘Em Like Jet Li Anymore…

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I Feel So Ubiquitous

Last night, I gave in to my craving for fried pies and headed down to Whiffies, a food cart among several that occupy a former parking lot on the corner of 12th and Hawthorne.  I’d heard and read of many positive reviews about the joint– yet another in Portland’s ever growing ‘food cart scene’– and thought that a fried pie was the best way to end a night of debauchery.

There were quite a few people ahead of me in line (proof of the food cart’s popularity), and I took that time to peruse the menu.  Although the savory selections– the “Chicken Pot Pie,” in particular– sounded very delicious, I though that something sweet might just be the ticket.  I decided to get their apple pie because what’s more American than apple pie?  When I got up to the counter, I absently ordered my selection and was taken aback when the guy behind the counter greeted me by name.  I looked up and directly at him, and realized that it was someone I’d worked with many years ago.  We chatted briefly but I couldn’t really take up too much of his time since there were people waiting behind me still.  We’re Twitter buddies now.

Earlier in the evening, while partaking of “Last Thursday,” an excuse for the Alberta Arts District‘s community to have a party at the end of each month, a colleague of mine walked up to me from among the crowd to say ‘hey.’  I’d also used him as a DJ for several of my events.  He’s totally jammin’!  (Is that still acceptable vernacular these days?)

And yesterday afternoon, while I was doing a walkthrough of Departure Restaurant as a possible event space, I felt a tap on my shoulder from yet another colleague who just happened to be there as well.

I know Portland is a small town but each of these encounters seemed very unlikely to meet someone I knew.  Luckily, these were people whom I didn’t mind bumping into.  It could’ve been worse.

Two Weeks by Grizzly Bear

Monday Musings

So, I’d recently been called out as a bad blogger by a fellow blogger who shall remain nameless <cough> Rejected Reality </cough>.  Okay, so maybe John didn’t necessarily use the phrase “bad blogger,” but his calling out my lack of new blog entries (on Facebook, nonetheless!) encouraged me to post this one.  Sadly, I’m going to spend it on a not-so-happy musing (or NSHM’s, for short):

Some People in Movie Theatres are Asshats

I was recently at a movie theatre where I witnessed a disgusting display of human stubbornness.  The theatre was apparently “sold out” so an usher (or whatever they’re called these days) was asking people to “scoot over toward the center of the aisles” in order to free up some spaces at the ends for parties of two or more people.  Some rows that could were all too willing to oblige.  One particular row, however, vehemently rejected the idea.  The usher did her best to muster up a “nice” tone to her voice and repeated her request.  One of the rejectors proudly said: “Look, we got here way in advance in order to snag good seats.”  He further asked why he and his party would have to sacrifice their good seats in order to reward the late-comers?

This was when things started getting ugly.  So, the usher lady (let’s call her Demetra), “It says on the back of your ticket that I have the right to kick you out of the theatre for unruly conduct, and this qualifies.”

“Why would this qualify?” asked one of the rejectors.

Demetra ignored the question.  “Sir, can you please just scoot over so that we can seat these people and start the movie?”

“No,” the rejector and his companion stated in unison.

With hands on her hips, Demetra said: “Then, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

At this, the pair got up and left, undoubtedly steeling themselves to wreak havoc on unsuspecting theatre management outside on what they might consider unfairness on behalf of the theatre.  I would be interested to find out what happened to them.

Demetra smirked and asked the theatre patrons next to the recently vacated seats to move closer to the center.  They complied.  One other holdout was the real AOTD (Asshat of the Day) who still refused to move one seat over.  One seat!  Demetra and the AOTD exchanged pleasantries (and by “pleasantries,” I mean the exact opposite) over the next ten minutes, with Demetra saying, “Sir, we’re not going to start this movie unless you either comply or are kicked out.”

“Then kick me out,” AOTD challenged the frustrated usher.

“Okay, I will,” Demetra countered, and immediately got on the radio to summon Security (which never came, by the way, possibly proving to AOTD that Demetra had been bluffing).

AOTD still refused to move despite a gaggle of fellow theatre patrons yelling at him to “Scoot over!” or “Just move!”  Meanwhile, the person seated next to me inquired, “Is that his daughter right next to him?”  I nodded, and she added: “What kind of example is he teaching her?”

“A bad one,” I said, after channeling my inner Confucius.

Long story short, a single late-arriving theatre patron ended up taking the lone seat to which AOTD had been implored to occupy, and the movie started ten minutes later than the posted time.  AOTD got his way and would probably be regaled by his daughter as a hero, for not giving in to the man (and by “the man,” I mean Demetra).

I was actually more amused than annoyed at what happened, although I don’t know how I would’ve felt had the movie started later than ten minutes.  But, I would’ve enjoyed it nonetheless if AOTD had indeed been hauled out by security.  And it would’ve been infinitely hilarious if “Security” turned out to be a couple of pimple-faced teenagers borrowed from the concession stand to “deal with” the problem.  It would be endlessly hilarious if one of the pimple-faced teenagers was wearing an apron replete with popcorn grease.

Geez, where the hell did I take this post?

Florida-Bound…

So, it’s a little before five on Friday morning and I’m at PDX waiting to board a six am flight to Dallas-Forth Worth, where I have a mere forty-five minutes to traverse that ridiculously huge, multi-concourse airport to make a flight down to Fort Lauderdale, at which I would need to catch yet another flight to finally arrive in Miami at around six this evening.   My buddy is going to pick me up from there and we have still an hour drive to Key Largo, my final destination in the, um, what the hell is Florida’s nickname anyway?  The sunshine state?  Wait, isn’t that Oregon?

At any rate, it’s a sixteen-hour travel day.  It would be a long-ass day, and my buddy– who arrived on Wednesday night– had already warned me that I have two days worth of catch-up bacchanal imbibing to do once I land.

Great…

And, only an hour before my flight, this travel day has already suffered several fails:

Fail #1:  I bought a book two days ago from Powell’s.  I was excited to have gotten it and was looking forward to reading it inflight.  The book is still safely nestled on my nightstand at home.

Fail #2:  I forgot to snag my credit card from my file cabinet.  I only use my credit card when I travel, and otherwise use just my debit cards for everyday purchases.  This way, I know I spend only what I can afford.  Now, I have enough funds to be able to engage in east coast debauchery, but I was somewhat hoping not to dip into that financial well too quickly.  The plan was to use my credit card and then pay the balance off on the next bill.

Fail #3:  I didn’t realize that American Airlines now charged $15.00 for the first bag.  You know, the first bag that was always supposed to be free.  That’s worth a couple of beers or one cocktail at the hotel.

I can’t wait to see what’s in store for the rest of the day.

Meanwhile, don’t you just love how we’ve all turned into shameless, amateur strippers as we prepare to go through the security checkpoints?