I know what you did last night…

Well, I know what some of you did last night. For the first time since 1998, Halloween fell on a Saturday night. Portlanders seemed to treat it accordingly.

I skipped dressing up this year. I had no real inspiration, no event to go to. I attended the Paranormal Party a few years back, dressed in Little Orphan Annie wig, red pearls and pink muu-muu. (Not tutu, as a co-worker tells everybody. There is a difference.) It matched my beard. Last year I did an evil clown thing. This year I was an observer.

And still I managed to scare.

Courtesy of Outlaw Vern

The last few years you’d think Freddy Krueger lived on our street. The next-door neighbor kids would knock, but most would pile into cars and go to richer neighborhoods. I bought two bags of candy, figuring we’d have one and three-quarters bags left over, plus what the kids scored.

They were gone in an hour.

My niece, a Purple Witch, stood at the driveway entrance, handing out Snickers and Milky Ways. Our killer attack dog would go nuts with every group, adding to the effect. I watched from out of sight, ready to get truly scary should anything inappropriate happen. A couple of punked-out teenagers complimented her on her get-up, and gave her some of their candy. Sweet!

Soon we had to kill the lights and hide in the dark. The groups of trick or treaters lasted two hours longer than our candy stash. The kids took to the streets; it was their turn.

I did my part for the parents. I’d switch from Ducks game to Blazer game to World Series, and hear hootin’ and hollerin’ from outside my window as mom and dad caught the score. There were years that I would offer shots and beers to parents; but having kids put an end to that. Effin’ responsibility. Got to put on a good front.

After things quieted down, I hopped a bus to downtown. Hawthorne didn’t look that much different than usual. I saw Japanese girls in bee costumes, many six-foot-plus trannies-for-a-night, and more blood-soaked brides than Henry VIII. I’d like to give a shout-out to the gal in the gold lame mini-skirt that was just a size too small. The curtains matched the carpet. -

The place to be? Down near the waterfront. Paddy’s and Jammin’ 107.5 had a tent on SW 1st and Yamhill, and the line to get in was a block long. Club Sesso had events going on, tied in with the Crystal Ballroom’s Annual Erotic Ball. I was offered a free admittance pass from a friend, but had to politely decline. I had no date, no costume. (What was I gonna do, go as a Road Warrior?) As much as I’d love to meet (and write about) Ron Jeremy, I’ll try to do that on a quieter night.

The bus ride home was full of drunks. One kid had peed his pants and was using his bicycle for stabilization. I must say, the partiers of the female persuasion were looking exceptionally nice. It would be just fine with me if y’all showed that much leg every Saturday night!

It was kind of odd for me, seeing so many folks out and about. The walk home is usually devoid of human contact in the wee hours. I walked past a young mother and her son, who looked about five. She shied away, giving a cautionary hello. The youngster, who caught no evil vibe, said, “Happy Halloween, mister!”

Aww.

So we are done with Halloween for another year. (Most of us anyway. Some of us like doing the spooky thing year ’round.) Now the only thing you have to worry about going bump in the night is me…

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• October 13, 2009 -- Portland Pedal Power (2)
• July 1, 2009 -- What’s In A Name? (4)
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• June 9, 2009 -- Upsidasium (4)

I’m becoming downright fond of the new Green Line. By hopping on a MAX at lunchtime, I can visit entirely new food carts, carts previously unattainable given the state of my ancient and creaking knees and the temporal limits of my lunch hour.

I was on such a mission today, visiting the carts at SW 3rd and Ash, when I ran into Ben.

This is Ben. Ben Rossiter, to be precise. Ben is a likeable young man who is out there spreading the gospel of Portland Pedal Power, a gospel of entrepreneurial spirit, local and sustainable practices, and the Way of the Bike.

Put simply, Portland Pedal Power will deliver. They will deliver piping hot meals from several of Portland’s finest food carts over a respectably large chunk of downtown. They are also adding deliveries from local businesses, like Trailhead coffee, and I have to believe that this aspect of their delivery business will continue to expand.

I believe that because Ben is earnest about this gig. He pointed out the cargo box on his bike, noting that he had a hot box for food deliveries that kept the food nice and hot anywhere in PPP’s delivery area. But that’s not enough. He wants to put an oven on the bike, just to make sure no one gets disappointed. He wants to expand across the river just as soon as PPP grows a bit more. He may be a bike rider, but he takes Business Development pretty damn seriously. They’re adding new partners all the time, he notes, both for deliveries and for marketing opportunities.

And don’t worry about Ben’s bike — That’s a Yuba Mundo cargo bike. Ben assures me the frame is built to take a combined load (cargo plus rider) of 450 lbs. He didn’t tell me if he could actually move the bike with that kind of load, but at least the bike won’t fail him.

So, if you’re a food cart that wants to reach a larger customer base, or you have goods you need delivered downtown, or you just want to see your logo zipping along the Broadway bike path, head on over to Portland Pedal Power. I think these folks will be going places.

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• May 11, 2009 -- Low-Car Lifestyle Clinic @ Portland Farmers Market (0)
• February 22, 2010 -- “I Thought Of That While Riding My Bike”* (2)
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• August 4, 2008 -- Cyclists: The Next Generation (2)
• July 7, 2008 -- Dependence Day (2)

As I look around the city and see new construction stretching from bustling downtown to sleepy little neighborhoods I can’t help but wonder how each place is going to draw the attention of the masses.  Get a foothold.  Take a step forward and get noticed.  The responsible (and fashionable) way to do it is to go green, but as we see more and more of that the green buildings even start to fade into the city’s backdrop.

So what can a developer do to stand out right now?  To get their foot in the door of Portland’s heart?  To make a name for their building in our fair city?  Well, I guess they could let our fair city make a name for them.  It’s an interesting take on getting civic pride and involvement and it’s just what one building in SW Portland is doing.

The building at SW 12th and Washington wants PDX to Name That Building and they’re dangling some pretty tantalizing rewards in front of the person who comes up with the name that’s chosen.  Beth Forsman from the Metropolitan group writes in an email

…first place names the building and is the key guest for the opening party. Second place names the eco-roof and can host the first party there and the third names the film studio (which will be lit in neon) and, again, is able to host a viewing party there. All winners have their personal names featured on plaques, making them a permanent fixture in Portland’s architecture!

The contest starts tomorrow, July2 and winners will be announced on August 6 at a First Thursday party.  If you’re interested you can go to pdxnamethatbuilding.com (starting tomorrow) for more information. Name well Portlanders.

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I was still 17 when I moved to Portland at the beginning of 1995 to live with a boyfriend who was going to college here.  I was a jaded youth but still young and simple enough to be impressed by the fact that I was living in a city as opposed to a suburb or out in some far flung corner of the country.  I was awed and amazed by my own strength at taking this big adventure.  Less than 2 years later I realized that it was Portland I was in love with much more than the man I shared a tiny 1 bedroom apartment with on the corner of NW 21st and Flanders.  Leaving him was one of the smartest moves I could have made and at 19, it gave me a fresh chance to find my own way in the world, and more importantly at the time, in the city I call home.

In the 14 years that have passed I’ve grown up while Portland changed around me.  I went from that amazed 17 year old girl from a suburb of San Francisco to the city dwelling woman I am today.  I still remember cheapish rent in NW Portland and the smell of brewing beer downtown.  So much has changed in this city since that time.  I still freak out looking at the Pearl District and thinking what it used to be.

Yesterday I found something that hasn’t changed one bit.  On our way home from a Fathers Day outing we stopped by Powell’s.  Since it was a weekend, naturally the streets were crowded and parking wasn’t to be had within 10 blocks.  It occurred to me that I hadn’t ever known my husband to park in the Powell’s parking garage.  I suggested it to Mike, a Portland native, and he gave me an absurd sideways glance.

In all his time in the city he’d never parked in their parking garage.  He asked a couple of questions and then I directed him to the entrance to the garage.  When we pulled up to the little entrance I suddenly remembered the last time I’d been in the parking lot.  I was 18 and my boyfriend had a little old white diesel Rabbit.  The clutch had a tendency to stick and he had such a hard time making it up the steep incline on the way in (and not rolling out of control on the way out) that we never parked there again.  I remembered laughing the entire way down and putting my arms up in the air like I was on a roller coaster.

Yesterday on our way out of the parking garage, after surrendering our keys, getting our ticket, buying out books, getting our parking validated and then getting our keys back, we climbed the several flights of stairs to the top of the parking garage and I realized that we were parked in space 36.  The same space the little old white diesel Rabbit had been in so many years ago.  When we went down the steep decline on our way out my daughter and I both squealed WHEEE while my husband laughed at our giggles of excitement.

In a city that changes so much so quickly, it’s interesting to see what stays the same.

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It happened again today. I was strolling down the sidewalk in the South Park Blocks when I spotted a couple of women standing in front of one of those green SmartMeter parking machines. These ladies had The Look.

The Look has certain tell-tale characteristics:

Confused face and assertive posture
Repeated button pushing
Constant checking and re-checking of receipt dispenser
Tapping of digital display screen
Muttering

Sometimes, when two people are at the machine, one will read the instructions while the other one tries to insert their credit card. Usually the person inserting the card looks like they are about ready to strangle the person reading the instructions. Nobody wants to admit they’ve been outsmarted by a parking meter. (Maybe that’s why they call them SmartMeters)

The Look is my cue to step in and ask if I can be of any assistance. Vary rarely does someone refuse my services. I coach the parking patron through the all the steps, reassuring them that 1.) yes, it does seem to take forever and 2.) no, you are not the only person who can’t figure it out. When the little ticket finally prints out of the dispenser, people are surprisingly grateful and thank me profusely. The ladies I helped today assured me that I had plenty of good karma coming my way and that I deserved every bit of it.

Over the past year or so, I’ve probably helped at least 50 people use the SmartMeter machine. How much good Karma is that, exactly? And, more importantly, can I use that good Karma to pay any future parking tickets?

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While strolling along 4th Avenue yesterday, I came across this paperbox. I’d heard the newspaper world has been turned upside down recently, but this is ridiculous.

I asked the nice bookie lady at the Rialto horse parlor what had happened. She wasn’t sure why, but it happened sometime during the overnight hours. A wacky attempt at humor? I doubt it.

Strictly guessing, I’d bet it was a pack of street thugs looking for money. PBR makes you STRONG! (Pitbull needs food. Anything helps.) Tipping the newsbox upside down and shaking it until the change falls out sounds like drunken fun at 4 AM, unless you own the paperbox. That would be my hypothesis.

If you’ve spent much time downtown, you’ve probably at some point had to look for change, to feed the bus or a parking meter. While some merchants are tight, most don’t mind parting with a buck or two in quarters. It’s good for business, and more often than not folks end up buying something anyway. It’s much better than being remembered as “that assh*le that wouldn’t give me change for a dollar.”

There’s a flip side: Those “spangers” that scrounge, whine and wheedle anything that jingles from you need a place to cash out. (Dope dealers do NOT take coins.) Merchants deal with this practically: Spend all the coin you want, but they don’t want to buy your pocket change. Becoming a de facto piggy bank is not why folks opened a business. Getting indignant because merchants don’t want to facilitate a drug deal will get you nowhere, kids. Take it to CoinStar. 8% is cheap, especially since all you did was draw a cardboard sign. Or rob a pay phone/newspaper box/vending machine.

Later in the night, as I walked past the MAX tracks, a teenage girl yelled at me from half a block away. Common sense and world-wisdom tells me that middle-aged men and teenage girls meeting on the street after midnight seldom mean good things, so I ignored her. After the fifth “Excuse me!” I turned and said, “What?”

“Would you have any part of a dollar you can spare?”

“NO!” While I didn’t violate a noise ordinance, I did hear it echo off a building.

“Well, you don’t have to be an asshole about it,” she said.

“Apparently I do. Ignoring you the previous four times you asked didn’t register, did it?”

“Whatever.” She turned away. “Hey, got a dollar? I’ll give you a nugget!” She’d refocused on a group of kids who were insulting a homeless man walking by. They began yelling insults at each other, and I put as much space between them as possible.

What the hell is a nugget?

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I often tell people I got a job downtown just so I’d have a place to go to the bathroom. That’s not a complete exaggeration.

Anyone who has been downtown knows the challenge of finding a public-friendly bathroom. Most businesses have signs that say “For Customer Use Only” or offer no facilities at all. (After seeing what gets left behind, I can’t say I blame them.) There are a few public-friendly places, like Powell’s Books or the Multnomah County Library. Bless them.

The city does have a few public restrooms. There are stand-alone facilities in the park between the Justice Center and the Multnomah County Courthouse. The men’s building looks old, but isn’t really. Some time back it was rebuilt after the outhouse in the same spot was leveled by a bomb, which solved a lot of problems. Back then, a visit to the necessary room was often supervised by nervously giggling guys in raincoats. (All together now: Eww!) I use the new and improved one frequently, and have yet to run into anything objectionable. It is kept clean.

I spoke with a Clean & Safe officer the other day about the situation. He told me that some toilets, like the one at SW 8th & Ankeny, are crime magnets. Others, like the one mentioned above, are not. One that draws a lot of attention and commentary is the new Portland Loo, installed between NW 5th and 6th on Glisan Street. In the area and curious, I decided to take it for a, ahem, test drive.

The line was five-deep when I arrived. A nice gentleman offered to sell me a pair of shoes. I asked how long the wait usually was, and the nice lady who was first in line sighed and said, “It takes as long as it takes.” When I pulled out a camera to take a picture, everyone moved away. I did too, deciding I didn’t want to make them wait any longer. I had other options.

Part of the design of the new loo supposedly allows you to see under, just enough to tell if it’s occupied or not. I couldn’t tell, and felt creepy staring at the grate. But I *was* curious, especially after what the Clean & Safe officer told me. Seems that some shelter-challenged types have a system. A lady recently flagged him down and showed him inside the loo, where someone had strategically placed a pair of shoes and pants, to look like someone was, shall we say, tapering one off? Presumably to keep their covered area while they ran to obtain more cerebral amusements. Points for creativity…

So, as the parade approaches, the city will have Honey Buckets scattered all over downtown. But what about the rest of the time? Downtowners have their secret spots, and I’m giving up no secrets of my own. I don’t want my picture in the next issue of Busted! for indecent exposure and offensive littering…

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Red coach
Originally uploaded by dieselboi

The Red Coach Restaurant, famous for their hamburgers and shakes, is indeed still open. A coworker and I ventured in there earlier this week and after lunch, spoke with the owners who informed us that they keep hearing that the restaurant is closed. I’ll re-iterate – it is open. Shout it from the rooftops.

See, last September, the owners – Bob and Jeanne Durkheimer, decided to retire after 50 years and passed the restaurant on to their daughter who now runs it. The Oregonian article at the time reads like an obit for the restaurant and it seems many took it that way. Talking with the staff on Tuesday, they told us of countless regulars who came in thinking the restaurant had closed.

So, as my duty to hamburger and shake lovers in downtown, I said I would let my people know. The Red Coach is open for business. They make great hamburgers, fried and milk shakes. If you’ve never been, check ‘em out down on SW Broadway in the Charles E Berg building.

Red Coach Restaurant
615 SW Broadway

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livin' the lifestyle

The recent shift to sunnier skies has many Portlanders dreaming of cruising down stumptown’s tree-lined boulevards on a bike. For many, these visions might also be accompanied by questions about how to best take advantage of a bicycle to meet the needs of everyday life –like a simple trip to the grocery store, or a family outing to Oaks Park. While the option of cycling for utilitarian purposes seems simple enough, when you consider carrying more than yourself on a bicycle the picture can get a little fuzzy.

If you’d like to map out your own course towards a summer filled with low-car utility and family bicycling, consider joining me this Saturday, May 16, for the Low-Car Lifestyle Clinic at the Portland Farmers Market. Sponsored by the fine folks at Joe Bike and the Portland Farmers Market, this free presentation will include live demonstrations on a variety of utility bicycles, in addition to my experience and perspective on a wide array of topics related to utility and family transportation (by bike).

Low-Car Lifestyle Clinic
Saturday May 16, 2009 / 11:00am – 12:00pm
Portland Farmers Market (center presentation pavilion)
@ Portland State University in the South Park Blocks

Especially tuned for those new to family and utility cycling, this clinic will provide the tools to help people map their own path to augmenting or replacing automotive transportation with bicycles. This clinic is definitely for you if any of the following questions have entered your mind recently:

• how do I safely transport my kids around town on a bike?
• can I get a bike that will pack a bunch of groceries and my children effectively?
• what if I need to pack something really heavy or awkwardly shaped?
• should I use a trailer or get a bike built just for the job?
• is this going to cost me a fortune?
• where do I start? who do I call?

The Low-Car Lifestyle Clinic is presented as part of the Portland Farmers Market’s bike month activities. The weather should be grand and the market will no doubt be bustling –I hope to see you there!

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Today was perhaps one of the most beautiful days in Portland ever. Of course, I tell myself this every time it is sunny and in the mid-70s here. Nothing is better than Portland on a sunny day.

I’ve lived in Portland for 16 years. I don’t know that any other place will feel like home to me like Portland does, but lately for me – the bloom has been off the Rose City. Blame the long winter, the pothole obstacle course in my neighborhood, the half-empty condo towers out my window, or Beau Breedlove – but for some reason I’ve been feeling really down on Stumptown.

My day job keeps me in the loop about the financial health of the city, particularly the non-profit sector. Portland is not immune from the economic crisis facing the rest of the nation, and when I hear stories about MLS or the Made in Oregon sign – I worry. I worry that the leadership of Portland is too easily distracted and isn’t taking the economic issues facing the city seriously enough.

Portland has been the kind of town that takes a relatively simple problem, like a place downtown to go to the bathroom – and turns it into something really complex, expensive, “progressive” (and ultimately flawed) and comes up with a cutesy name like The Portland Loo. Portland is a real-estate developer’s paradise. A place you can swoop in with a big bag of shiny money and suddenly be everyone’s best friend. And all of your new best friends think you shit sunshine and have the most brilliant ideas ever. Portland is big on grandiose ideas, but no so big on the pesky little details. Details like the city’s $5.4 billion in long-term debt.

And what is it with all the panhandling and charity mugging downtown? Gah! I just want to walk down the street in peace.

The other day I was ticking off my list of Portland grievances with a friend of mine, and she chastised me for being such a cynic. I really couldn’t argue with her. I’ve become a total Portland Pessimist and a bummer to hang out with at cocktail parties. I’ve even gotten tired of listening to myself complain.

So I’ve made a little project for myself. I’m going to find reasons to fall in love with Portland again, and share my findings here on ourpdx. Today was easy:

The sun! The warmth!
The evenings are getting longer.
The Blazers are in the playoffs and because I’m a season ticket holder – I’m going to the home games.

Yep. It’s good to be a Portlander today.

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