JULY 4, 1994
What future? What generation X? What is the point?
"I ain't no fuckin' X-er." Beth the school teacher says as we walk into downtown Portland.
1994 finds the bulk of us hovering around 30. The fourth of July is overcast and we're all wearing sweatshirts and coats. We pass the UFO museum, the antique cars and bicycles, I-405, and an empty building.
"We should take that shop there," Heidi says, "Wouldn't it be fun to own a store together?"
"I think that you would have to stay in Portland," I say, referring to her immanent move to Papua New Guinea.
She glances at me and looks back. Beth's sister glances at me and looks back. Jane glances at me and looks back. Beth glances at me and smiles; I smile back. All in succession, oblivious to the synchronization.
"I think you should just blow off
moving to PNG and move into the commune," Beth says. "I'd like it if you'd
stay."
"I'd like it if she stayed," I say. I'm melancholy.
"You can't live in the commune J.," Beth says, "you're a guy."
"I'm aware of that," I reply, "I'd still like it if she'd stay."
"It's hard to believe that Eric's been gone for two years," Beth says.
"He hasn't." Heidi replies.
"It seems like he's been there forever," Beth continues.
They discuss this for a few minutes. At times like this I feel invisible. Surely no one can see me or is aware of me. Two rapid fire discussions that by definition exclude me.
"Is this downtown Portland?" Beth's sister asks. She's amazed that a downtown can actually have people in it after working hours. She goes into detail about the death of downtown Charlotte. It is the stock downtown America story. Once vibrant and alive, it is discarded in the move to create monuments to wealthy businessmen. Housing and activities are removed, leaving the cancer of large glass pointless phallic monoliths. The by-product of the pointless American anti-aesthetic.
But downtown Portland has retained its structures and its identity. There are many things to do after working hours and the CBD remains alive. It is so unbelievable that planners and developers from all over North America flock to Portland to gape in idiotic amazement at something that is taken for granted in every other country on earth -- a living central city.
Beth's sister is duly impressed. She's good
with languages and all things cerebral, Beth is quick to tell us. I'd imagine that she'll
see many other countries and find out that the America norm of the dying inner city is
actually an American anomaly.
"I have to check your bags." the gatekeeper announced.
"For what?" Heidi asked.
"Glass, alcohol ..."
"Oh, we've got both."
"Well, I'll give you two choices. You can take it back to your car or you can throw it away."
"Oh, we'll go back to the car." Heidi said.
I wanted to protest that we proudly came all the way downtown without the aid of a car, but didn't.
We sat in the grass next to the Willamette
and ate dinner and drank our two bottles of wine. Jane continually protested that we'd
given her too much and kept dumping her wine in other people's glasses when they weren't
looking. The wine cheered me up, however, and I shucked my aforementioned melancholia.
After we ate our dinner of bread, cheese, pasta salad, chips, and wine, Alicia (Beth's sister) and Beth had to go to the restroom. We threw our wine bottles away and went into the blues festival. They checked our now innocent bags on the way in.
The blues festival was sponsored in part by the Miller Brewing Company, a company that has an uncanny ability to make thousands of versions of really tasteless products. Miller, Miller Lite, Miller Ice, Miller Ice Lite, Miller Dark, Miller Dark Ice Lite, Miller free, and Zima. You know Zima, it's the single most fucking annoying ad on television that makes one dive for the mute button every time it comes on. Ads that surpass annoying and become downright painful to listen to.
When the Guiness Brewing Company wanted women to drink, they brewed Harp. Which was lighter and more palatable, they believed, to women. Well, I think that this was the same thing for the Miller Brewing Company. They thought, that Miller was so heavy that they needed to brew something as close to water as human possible with out actually being water. Enter Zima! Zima is without a doubt the worst stuff I have ever drank. Not because it doesn't taste bad, but because it doesn't taste at all. They included several pieces of ice in our glass, I believe that this was to add flavor to the clear malt beverage. I think that Zima is actually just water with a pinch of beer. Sorta like Beer Seltzer.
Exactly like Beer Seltzer. A bargain at $3.
Heidi found us a place to set up camp, rather close to the water. I was surprised.
We sat around and talked and listened to the blues bands. The bands faded in and out of my awareness. This was primarily because a bunch of people decided to come and stand in front of where we were sitting, so facing the bands meant staring at several rather unsightly gluteus maxemi. Which may have been alright after about 10 million beer seltzers, but I'd only had about 1/2 a bottle of wine and a sip of Zima.
"Can I lean against your leg, J.?" Beth asked.
"Sure."
"I just wouldn't want you to think I was coming on to you."
"It's okay."
We all sat around leaning on each other watching the fireworks. Heidi and Beth were leaning on me. Alicia was leaning on Beth and Jane was leaning on Heidi. Suddenly, Heidi sat up and said, "Move."
"What?" I said.
"Move, we're all leaning on each other and you're the focal point and you're the guy and I don't like that."
I audibly rolled my eyes. Heidi pushed me a bit so I moved out of the group. It was really cold and we had been keeping each other warm. I was cold. Heidi kept trying to get me to come back into the group, but I really didn't feel like strategically positioning myself so that I wasn't the statistical center of the group, so I sat there.
I didn't put myself in any central position and found the request to move unwarranted and a more than a bit childish. No gender parity or equity issues would be solved by moving my position in a group of friends watching fireworks on the fourth of July.
Heidi asked me several times if I was upset
-- if she had upset me. I said that I was annoyed and it was cold out. After a few minutes
she said that she was sorry. Something that she hadn't done before - presumably because I
never said that I was annoyed before.
I was in a generally good mood at the time, so I retook the same place I had before in the group. Which further added to the meaninglessness of the whole endeavor and I felt like it was an annoyance manufactured to elicit a response. Purely contrived so that I would get mad and Heidi could apologize. Another test in the now documented battle regarding Heidi's perception that she "walks all over" me.
So by getting annoyed I, at least that one time, broke free of the ever so weighty chains of illusory domination held so tightly by Heidi. Oh how really very liberating it was.
At one point, I told Heidi, "I love you .... for whatever reason." Which is true. It's unfortunate that I have really no barometer on her actions. She could either really be just weirdly malicious or she could be doing these things as a reaction to her upcoming move to Papua New Guinea to be with Eric. I don't rightly know, at this time.
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