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Another Portland Blog

Monday, August 28, 2006

 

Passing out in the "war zone"

A true story:

NOT THAT STUPID: Getting plastered on gin before seeing Snakes on a Plane at Pioneer Place on Saturday night. After all, it's the sort of movie that goes hand in hand with inebriation.

PRETTY STUPID: Drinking more gin at Kelly's Olympian before staggering back to the car.

FAIRLY SMART BUT STILL PRETTY STUPID: Throwing the seat back and taking a nap until the effects of the alcohol wore off to the point where it was safe to drive home.

POSSIBLY STUPID: Leaving the keys in the ignition (doors were locked). Someone later told me this is illegal in the state of Oregon and may, technically, count as a DUI since an officer could interpret this as an attempt to operate the vehicle while intoxicated. I haven't been able to find anything about this in the Oregon Blue Book.

DEFINETELY STUPID: Leaving the radio on.

STUPIDER: Passing out on SW 3rd and Oak, a few blocks away from a shooting that took place the night before.

VERY STUPID: Waking up over three hours later at 3 AM to discover the radio still playing but a car battery without enough juice to get the engine going. Curse you, Chill Show!

STUPIDEST OF ALL: A group of gangbangers were lingering around the Nissan directly in front of my car. When they noticed me struggling to get the engine going, one wandered over and tapped on the windshield. I opened the door to talk to him since the power windows wouldn't work. After all, it's not like my car could be stolen in its present state. Plus, their's was nicer than mine and there were plenty of witnesses still roaming the streets at that hour to offset a possible beating.

THE CONVERSATION THAT ENSUED (VERBATEM):

GANGBANGER GUY: "Dawg, your battery's dead. You're gonna need a jump. Ya' got AAA?"

ME: "Yeah, I've got it covered."

GANGBANGER GUY: "Coo'."

I called AAA after finding my cell phone in the backseat. Twenty minutes later I was on my way. I don't think this story would have the same ending in a town like Detroit.

Morale of this true story: downtown Portland may have its problems but it ain't Detroit.

And now I would like to buy the world a Coke.

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