Another Side of Oregon

When most people think of Oregon, they think of towering trees and rugged mountains. Here's another side....

The Good Samaritan

I spent a couple years in Boston. Those were good years. I spent the weekdays mountainbiking and working from home, and the weeknights at the bars. My friend Rafi and I had a routine. Every Friday we’d start out at a brewpub for pints of beer and mounds of buffalo wings. Then we’d move onto the pool hall where we’d goggle over the pretty barmaids and drink more beer than we should’ve. By 2:00AM we’d be walking over to the nearby IHOP for the post-drunk breakfast. For some reason, at this time, Rafi always got it in his head that he wanted to help out the homeless. But giving away change wasn’t enough for Rafi. No. “Let’s take a homeless person to breakfast,” he’d always say. Luckily the bums just ignored his offers, thinking he was crazy or wanting booze-money instead.

Well this one time we were stumbling along beside Fenway park. Now, during a game, that’s the busiest part of the city. But at 2:00AM on a Friday it’s pretty dead. There’s nothing but dirt, debris, and darkness, and on this particular evening, Rafi and me.

As usual, Rafi started-up again, “Let’s take a bum to get some pancakes,” he said. “Awww, come on Rafi,” I replied weary and hungry, “Let’s just go get something to eat.” But he wouldn’t have it. “No really, let’s take a bum to breakfast.” Then the heavens opened up and gave him hope. There in the distance, about 2 blocks away, was a silhoutte. Rafi started screaming at it, “Hey you! Come here!” Much to my surprise, the guy turned around and started heading our way. Now, if I was walking along a dark, deserted street at 2AM, and two guys were yelling for me to come over, the last thing I’d do is come over. But here this guy was, heading our way, swinging his hands happily at his sides as he walked. I was suspicious.

“We’re heading over to the IHOP,” Rafi said as the guy got up to us, “want to go for some pancakes?”
“What?”
“We’re going to get some pancakes. Want to get some pancakes?”
“Uh, no.”

I figured the matter was settled. “Let’s go Rafi.” I chimed in, “He doesn’t want any pancakes.”
I should have known better.
“Come on,” Rafi said ignoring me, “We'll buy. Let’s go to IHOP and get some pancakes.”
“No thanks man.”

“You don’t want pancakes? Why don’t you want any pancakes? Come on. Let’s go get some pancakes.”
“No man, I’m not hungry.”

“Why don’t you want any pancakes? What are you doing out here walking around the streets at 2 in the morning if you don’t want any pancakes?”
“I don’t know, man. I’m just walking around.”

“What? You can’t just be walking around. What are you doing out here this late at night? Why don’t you want to get some pancakes?”
“I’m just walking,” the guy replied, looking at the ground, hands in pockets, shuffling feet. He was getting uncomfortable, not wanting to come out with it.

“Well if you don’t have anything else to do, you should come with us to get some pancakes.”

That was it. The guy finally broke down and came out with it, his body swayed back and forth with city attitude and confidence, and he said it: “Hey man, I’m just looking to suck some dick.”

“Huh?” Rafi just stood there. Stupified. Mouth gaping open.

“You heard the man," I said taking control, "He wants to suck some dick.” I turned my attention to the guy, “What’s your name?”
“Edwardo."
“Edwardo, nice to meet you. I’m John,” I said and shook his hand, “This is Rafi. Come on Rafi. Let’s go.”

After that, Rafi didn’t ask bums to breakfast anymore.

Baby Tuna

I only had one serious relationship in college. Mostly it was one nighters. This one time I hooked up with a girl. I’m not even sure who she was or where she came from. I was just partying with some friends and she was there. That’s how it was back then – new people always being there.

Next thing I knew we were going at it in my room and I don’t really remember much more than that. I do remember how I felt the next day – good. Real good. Getting laid will do that to you. I remember walking around campus, feeling on top of the world, like anything was possible. But it didn’t last long.

My friends started giving me a hard time. In the dorms, there are no secrets. And once your friends have something on you, they don’t let go.

The problem was that she was only fourteen. Worse yet, she was fat. Not huge, but not thin either. That’s all it took. The comments started – “Sounds like you had a whale of a time.” Ha, ha. “Want to go to the playground and pick-up chicks?” He, he. I tried to ignore them. I figured responding would just add fuel to the fire. I figured eventually it would all die down on its own accord. And it probably would have. If it wasn’t for Randy.

Randy was the guy that lived in the room next to mine. He was pretty funny- at least until his humor was aimed at you. Then he was deadly. One day we were all in the cafeteria. I was sitting at the table where I always sat - the table where all the guys from my floor sat. It was right across from the window with the dish washer conveyer belt. That way we could watch the all girls as they came up with their trays of dirty dishes.

On this day the girls were sparse, so everyone started giving me a hard time instead. They were making the same, old jokes - “Harpoon any whales lately?” Ha, ha. “Yo, Captain Ahab.” Ho, ho. Then Randy uttered the phrase that would turn the next few months of my life into a living hell – “He’s not harpooning whales. He’s fishing for baby tuna.” The whole table started laughing. From then on it was baby tuna this, and baby tuna that. It was a curse. It followed me everywhere. I couldn’t get dates. I couldn’t eat one god damn meal without a slew of jokes being thrown out at my expense. It got so bad I started avoiding eating at the same time as everyone else.

Eventually it faded away. Randy flunked out. Last I heard he was married and managing the produce section at Safeway. And I redeemed myself with another girl. She was hanging out in our TV lounge. She was a friend of some other girls that were always hanging around. They were there on a Friday night, bored, trolling for guys. I was drunk, she looked good, she was new, she was mine.

Somehow I got her into my room. I don’t remember how, but it didn’t take long. I remember her lying on her back, sexy, with her legs spread open. I remember reaching down and ripping off her panties like a wildman. Somehow I broke her necklace. I pretty much tore at anything that was in my way. It was pure, animal lust.

The next morning I staggered out of the room, rubbing my eyes, wondering what had hit me. The guy in the room across was standing in his doorway. “Have a good night?” he asked with a big smirk on his face. How did he know?

Apparently, everyone knew. I was told her moaning echoed through the hallways all night. I was told one of the guys, Paul, crawled out onto the ledge to get a better look and I faintly remember it. He shimmied over to my window, opened it up, and poked his head in. I don’t know what he thought he was doing. Just couldn’t help himself I guess. I put my hand on his head, pushed him out, and locked the window behind him. It was crazy. We were all defenseless against the passions of youth.

The next few days the girl’s friends kept telling me how much she liked me, how much she wanted to go out with me. But I said no. It was just a one night fling. She wasn’t my type. I was a fool.

But my reputation changed after that. I was a legend. It was no longer “Baby Tuna.” It was “All Night Wes.”

That’s how it is with the masses. Memories are short and loyalty tenuous.