smileytraveler

Portland, what happened to you? It's been three years since I was blessed to be in your weird little city and, well, I kinda feel like I don't know you anymore.

Maybe it's me who's changed? Maybe I was so besotted with your beauty, artsiness, food and uh...quirks...that I just didn't see it before. I just don't know.

I've only been here a couple of weeks, but I think it's time for a little heart-to-heart.

(Note: Words are a great expressive medium and all, but there's no way for me to communicate tone when I write. So when you read this, please know that I am speaking in a soft, concerned voice, not an accusatory one.)

Back in 2007, when we first met, I felt as though I'd discovered weirdo Shangri-La. It was a place I could appear in public wearing outfits I didn't dare sport anywhere else. I even tested you: the pastel rainbow tights with crew socks, black Converse, and a shirt/dress (who knows?) reminiscent of a burlap sack? Not even a double-take. The golf shoes, daisy dukes, and holey circa 1985 T-shirt with a severed zombie head on it? Didn't phase you a bit. You accepted me no matter how obnoxious I tried to be, cause that's just who you are.

I looked forward to seeing your friendly citizens as I walked the streets for weeks. Darth Vader cruising with his pet chicken. That guy on a unicycle covered in sparkles holding a boombox. Oh, and the doggie outfits! Such a joy! Everywhere I went, I enjoyed the company of your people. Is it a guy, is it a girl? I didn't know and I didn't care. We were all weirdos together.

You were the most accepting and tolerant place I'd ever visited. But I must say, you've gotten a little too accepting. A little too tolerant.

What I'm trying to say is, congratulations, you've become San Francisco. A city I visited just once, and one to which I will never return. It's true...I've traveled alone in third-world countries and have never been as frightened as I was in the City by the Bay. Its beauty was never enough to get me past the stinking piles of feces I waded through in public stairwells, the expletives shouted as I strolled on by, the spitballs I had to dodge (I'm not making this up) as I walked down the sidewalk. Oh, and the drugs. Lots of drugs. Not the cute “let's smoke a doobie” kindsa drugs. I'm talking the kinds that turn God's children into putrid piles of semi-sentient meat, their souls and humanity long gone.

(Note: I'm not anti-drug. Merely making an observation.)

Portland, I understand that every city has their problem children and I, in no way, expect you to be perfect...you're my boo.

Yesterday, I ventured out for a long bike ride along the Willamette, just for old time's sake. After making my way through the Pearl, I hopped up onto the Willamette Greenway Trail and zipped down the wooden boardwalk. I love the sound the tires make on the planks. Daydreaming in the “path of flowers”, I spot a nice gentleman bathing in your mighty river, his ding-a-ling waving in the gentle breeze. Portland, please don't take me for a prude, but please understand I am a simple Southern bumpkin and I'm just not used to seeing public ding-a-lings. I jolt a bit. But then I snap out of it. After all, if I had a nickel for every ding-a-ling I've seen in Portland, I'd be living in a high-rise in Monaco right now. This is mostly due to the fact that I'm – without fail – out and about when the annual Naked Bike Ride takes place.

I smile and continue with my ride. Godspeed to you and your ding-a-ling, fine sir!

I cross over the train tracks and prepare myself to pass under the Steel Bridge. Now, I know very well what the underbelly of the Steel Bridge has in store. Since you are Portland, I'll be PC here: it's not my favorite place in town. But I know once I'm through, I can delight in the wonders of the west bank promenade. Under the bridge, I become Mario when he has to dodge those giant swinging spikey-ball-thingies on his way to rescue the princess. Once I hop up into that green pipe from the underworld, I'm home free.

Or am I?

As I round the corner, another jolt, although this time it wasn't the fleeting kind one experiences at the sight of a liberated ding-a-ling. Your west bank promenade looked a little different.

For a city that prides itself on environmental beauty and purity, I can't quite figure out why there's garbage everywhere. Is this okay now? Did I miss the memo?

This is going to be hard for me, Portland, but...we've got to talk about the kids. A lot of people, including my friends, refer to them as “the homeless”. I don't like that word one bit, so I'm not going to use it. Being without a home is not something one should be ashamed of. I believe we need to stop defining our fellow man by their possessions, and begin defining them by their behavior.

The kids are messy, man. For a city that preaches the virtues of public health and public services, I'm a little concerned. They need a place to dispose of their garbage. A large dumpster will do. Right now, it's piling up on the ground and it's making you look ugly. They need facilities to evacuate and shower. A bank of small porta-potties might work, but I'd highly recommend a permanent structure with indoor plumbing model. I've heard these things are available at shelters, but unfortunately, the kids don't want to live at the shelters because the shelters have rules. The kids don't like rules. They want to be in the park, so it's your responsibility to bring the facilities to them.

A lot of the kids have drug problems. They, also, do not like the treatment centers you've provided. They want to do their drugs in the park, and who can blame them? It's beautiful. Perhaps it's time to deploy a few medical professionals to make rounds and ensure that nobody kills themselves or uses dirty drug delivery equipment. You'll have to bring them to the park, though. The kids don't like traveling.

Some of the kids are sick. Their brains just don't work like the rest of ours. They need people trained in sick brains to help them. Again, you'll have to bring them to the park. I say this because my best friend is a mental health professional in your fine city and she tells me there are literally no more beds in her hospital. She can't care for the kids because there is nowhere to put them. The good news is that in the park, the kids have their own beds, so all you would need to provide are the caring professionals.

And then there are the violent kids. I heard one of them decided to beat the hell out of an elderly couple on Poet's Beach. For no reason. If you're going to encourage the violent kids to live in the park, it's time for you to start considering a babysitter. There are professional babysitters out there. They wear uniforms and carry guns they are trained to use. In my two hours on the banks of the Willamette yesterday, I saw not one babysitter. If you are not willing to hire more babysitters, perhaps it's time you provided your citizens with training on how to professionally handle a gun, and made it easy for them to get permits to discreetly carry. I'm not advocating violent civil war, Portland, I'm just saying that if the kids know the people they'd like to beat up might defend themselves, well...they might think twice.

If we're going to invite and encourage the kids to live in the park, if you came up with a plan to make it safe and pleasant for everyone.

Perhaps we could communicate to the kids that it's not alright to have drug-fueled* sex in the park. (Saw this.) When brain-sick kids angrily walk around with giant sticks in their hands, maybe let them know there's a possibility that others might feel uncomfortable. (I did.) When the kids see a dead animal, perhaps it's not the best idea to dump Cheeotes all over it. (WTF?!) That's no way to treat the dead.

You are compassionate, Portland. You've drilled this into me for over 10 years. You care more than anyone. You have lots of demonstrations. Lots of “activists”. Lots of tolerance. But, yesterday, I saw one of your kids, a 20-year-old girl covered in scabs and filth, and she looked like she needed help. Don't make me think all the compassionate chest beating I've witnessed was just for show, Portland.

You are an individual, Portland. You don't need to try so hard to be San Francisco. If you put in some standards for human decency in public places, we won't think any less of you. You'll still be the artsy, open-minded Portland we love.

I'm sorry to say this, but you look tired, Portland. Kids are a lot of responsibility. I hope you're ready for it.

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*UPDATE: I'd like to take this statement back as I have no proof they were on drugs. A lot of passion went into this post and I shouldn't have said that.