I've had a couple of strange incidents lately involving panhandlers (or, as Jake calls them, hobos, despite the lack of a long stick with a little bag attached at the end and a nearby train station). A few weeks ago as I was walking along in the Pearl to meet a friend for lunch, I noticed two gentlemen in front of me. One had a sign and was standing on the street corner attempting to guilt passing motorists into stopping and handing him some cash. The sign said something like "If you live in the Pearl District you are a snotty rich bastard and you probably consume truffle oil on a regular basis and your dog cost more than my last car so give me some money, beeyotch." I was surprised, but his approach seemed to be working.
The other man was just standing there, looking a little bewildered and bending over to retrieve a half-smoked cigarette from the street. Yes, it is still legal to smoke outside in Portland, but I'm sure our capable mayor and city council will eliminate that luxury soon. Anyway, I digress...
This hapless hobo had now put the garbage/smoke between his lips and asked me if I had a light. "Sorry," I said, "I only keep matches at home since it illegal now to smoke anywhere but your own dwelling unit or in the middle of a corn field."
"Shit," he muttered, then his face brightened a little. "You wouldn't happen to have a spare dollar or two, would you? I'm really hungry."
I reached into my wallet and eyed him carefully. "You're not going to spend this money on drugs, are you?" I asked, squinting my eyes in an accusatory fashion while simultaneously trying to emote concern about his well-being. I was hoping worst-case scenario he might take my money and pop into Blue Hour for a spicy Blood Mary. That, I could handle, but knowing my hard-earned cash was going to a meth lab entrepreneur would be too much.
"Nah, man, I just want to get a burger," he said, and I handed the money over to him. Suddenly, the other guy was in his face, yelling at him.
"DO YOU MIND???" he screamed, "I'M TRYING TO PANHANDLE HERE!"
Put the emphasis on the word "panhandle" and it's even funnier. This really happened. Only in Portland, my friends.
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Speaking of Portland experiences, a friend and co-worker who is a very discriminating diner just told me about a new burger restaurant called "Foster Burger" - partnership between chefs at Le Pigeon and Sel Gris. Must be pretty fine burgers! Check it out!
And the city fathers wonder why so many businesses are fleeing downtown faster than rats on a sinking ship....
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