Getting Bombed On Friday Night

November 27, 2010 at 8:50 pm (On the road again..., That's not funny...)

Ah, the holidays. Mass-marketing under the guise of love for one’s fellow man. Forced cheer. Whoopty-fuckin’ do.

Had to run an errand downtown today, taking care of one small detail before declaring myself single again. (Yet another reason to look forward to a never-ending holiday season.) I’m beginning to wonder why I bother. I relate more each day to that Wile E Coyote figurine staring me down. The futility of repeatedly attempting to fire up my love life is getting disheartening. I should be careful what I wish for.

But enough misery talk. How about that terrorist, eh?

I’d just left the bank and was boarding a bus three blocks away when the bin Laden-wannabe made his phone call, attempting to set off a car bomb at the holiday tree lighting ceremony. (Mercury coverage here, Oregonian and links to national stuff here.) It’s not uncommon to see tons of cop cars at an event of this magnitude; I thought nothing of it and knew nothing until hours later, when details emerged on the internet.

Today has been about getting my head back on straight. Got up and took care of the heavy business, then spent the afternoon taking my time going home. Nothing to look forward to but laundry. Got a new battery installed in my watch, the ironic Ironman with the teal band. (“Manly, yes.” “But I like it too!”) I stopped for coffee at the mall, eyeing the multitudes dressed in ugly sweaters. The gal that runs the coffee stand smiled when she saw it was me picking up the quadruple mocha.

“Hey! How ya been?” She’s the same barista who was working when the old guy committed suicide a few months back.

“Meh. Same old same old. Looks like business is good for you.” I’d left and returned, instead of waiting through a line a few minutes prior.

“Yeah, we’ve been going crazy for a couple weeks now. New storefronts…” She pointed to the Swedish department store.

I sat nearby, watching folks mill about. Caffeinated, I caught a MAX heading home. Immediately upon being seated, a fight broke out on the platform at Pioneer Square, less than a block from the bomb spot. We sat for ten minutes while the old man and the Road Warrior shouted and shoved each other. Cops came, order was restored. As the train pulled out, I set the MP3 player to Metallica and listened to “…And Justice For All”.

Another delay at the Rose Quarter: A fight on the train in front of us. We sat for fifteen minutes while the cops responded to that incident. I shared a compartment with a father/son combo. (They reminded me of the Humpty Dumpty family, ages 53 and 21.) Across from them were five white guys with droopy pants, sideways hats and gold-embossed dollar signs on their hoodies. They surrounded a girl, whose buck teeth were surpassed in size only by her eyebrows. She kept yelling “Thanks, motherfuckers for messing up my connection!” Apparently these fights were keeping her posse from their intended rounds.

Tonight (Saturday) is the only night this week I haven’t had plans. After tonight I’m booked through Wednesday. I’m grateful to be busy, and should enjoy a quiet night at home. Unfortunately, the chicken I was going to have for dinner has a sour-milk aroma and, according to a friend who works in an upscale kitchen, *that* is a recipe for disaster. Leftover turkey for the third day is a much safer bet. I have bags of potato chips. Partial diet-fail impending.

Or I could go out again. Impulse-venturing had me crossing paths with no less than three old friends this week, all pleasant surprises. The Dominatrix even made an appearance.

Life won’t keep me down for long. Not with role models like Wile E.

1 Comment

  1. RoadRunner said,

    xxx Thanks for choosing *ACME* for all your craft making needs xxx
    =D…meep meep………….

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