So I'm driving home. Gonna get some doughnuts and some tacos. At the crosswalk by the laundromat a block down from the Plaid Pantry. You know the one. Pink neon sign for the arcade games. What's that doing in a laundromat, anyway? Everyone says Movie Madness is the jewel of Belmont. I disagree. I say it's the out-of-place arcade sign at the laundromat that has no right to exist.

A woman. About 60. Walking across at that intersection. Black turtleneck. Black slacks. Carrying a half-empty black trash bag. Bleach blonde hair. She's staring at the ground and looks like she's up to something.

2 AM on a Friday night. What's she doing out there at that hour, in that clothing, with a trash bag?

This is why I love you, Portland. Despite the condo towers. Despite the tough job market. Despite the fact I have to work in Beaverton and get yelled at all day to live here. You're never boring. You throw out the beatnik trash bag ladies at just the right moment. She was heading across the parking lot towards the mini mart when the light turned green. Guess I'll never the whole story there.