I took my first step in Portlandification today. I bought a bike.
Until yesterday, I hadn’t ridden a bike in I-can’t-remember-how-long. But you know what they say. Riding a bike’s like… riding a bike.
And in the Portland-iest occurrence of my trip so far, a skinny beanie-wearing dude named Buggy sold it to me. His name was Buggy. Buggy was very nice, helpful, and accommodating. When he rang me up, he said, “If it’s all right with you, that’ll be $39.50.” What was I going to say? “Why, Buggy, no. That’s NOT all right with me.”?
I’ve actually been shocked by how normal things seem here. I was fully expecting this dude–
–to greet me at the airport with a medical marijuana prescription and a food co-op card. He hasn’t shown up yet. Maybe his unicycle has a flat.
PDX reminds me of Boston during the Big Dig, actually. Construction cranes, lots of semis on the highway. There’s industry here. In Sarasota, there is NO heavy industry, and they keep the light industry more segregated than the black people. (I wish that were a joke). It was interesting to me to see raw edifices here, not covered by the pastiche of a Tuscan villa or a faux-aged mural.
I also saw Mt. Hood. Please see yesterday’s entry for my feelings on that.
Today’s Beard Count: 3 (2 in the bike shop alone! Buggy was clean-shaven, however).