September 2010

While we were on a hike in the forest, we came across a guy on a bike called Corey. He was classic California, accent and all. Since we hadn't talked to anyone in days, we chatted with him for a few minutes. I asked him what it's like to live in California, if he thinks Prop 19 will pass, what's with the CA/OR animosity, etc. So I ask him, "What do you guys think of Sarah Palin here in California?" and he answered "Porno." Then I said "No, I mean what do you make of Sarah Palin?" and he said "Porno."

Heh heh. Shine on, you crazy diamond...

We had been in the stix of Oregon for almost a week, and I had seen my share of "Obama is a terrorist" and "Ted Nugent for President" bumper stickers. We even saw people lined up on a small-town street corner holding anti-abortion signs and screaming at cars. Fair enough - its the backwoods, and very sparsely populated. So we finally make it to a sizable town on the coast, on our way to a campground. While driving there, we were going over a bridge and saw a very creepy old man hitch-hiking on the road and we make a loud shudder. "Ahhh! He made eye contact with me!" said Aaron. "Can you imagine picking that guy up?" I joked.

We make it to the campground a few miles up, and since it's off-season it is practically empty (just the way we like it). There were about 57 sites split into 3 separate loops, and about 7 of them were occupied. We excitedly pick a site that is as far away from everyone as possible. Taking a quick stroll around, we realize there was someone else there - a very messy family I supposed (no one was there), judging by all the crap strewn everywhere. It was like a white trash bomb went off - garbage and food all around soaked wet from rain. Since they were so far from us, we didn't care. And as we got into the car to go pay for the site, a pick-up truck drove around the corner WITH THE HITCHHIKER IN THE PASSENGER SEAT. They drove into the trashed site.

We quickly changed our mind about taking that site, and chose one a little closer to the other people, and not in that loop at all. The driver and the hitchhiker were the only ones camped in that loop.

So, night falls and we're happily eating dinner in the dark (and the rain) in front of the fire. The silence was beautiful. And then suddenly, "BOOM!" - "BOOM!" - 2 shots from a shotgun coming from the hitchhiker campsite. We looked at each other wide-eyed and hear it again, "BOOM!" - "BOOM!". I'm immediately shaken into the realization that we are now, in fact, in real America. I said, "Are those gunshots?" - of course they were. A few minutes pass, and then, a little closer than before but from the same direction, we hear "BOOM! - BOOM - BOOM!" Immediately, I wasn't just in real America, I was in a real America situation. Headlines rushed into my head - things you don't hear happening in the city - Columbine, Amish school, Virginia Tech, IRS building smasher, disgruntled workers... GOOD LORD! We're in a campground massacre! They're going from site to site blowing everyone away!

"What do we do?!!" I kept scream-whispering to Aaron, who was (as always) calm, but aware of the craziness of the situation. We look around - pitch black and no one. The shots keep coming. We must not have been completely convinced, I think now, because we did the absolute WORST thing you should do in that situation. We got in the car and tried to find another camper.

We stopped at the closest site, and I got out of the car screaming like a crazy woman to the young couple who was peacefully eating dinner before the fire. "Did you hear gun shots?" I ask frantically? They said they did, but didn't know what it was. They didn't seem concerned at all. So we continued driving (after shouting, I'm not kidding, "Be vigilant!") and saw 2 more sites of people who didn't seemed to be alarmed in the least. The shots stopped. I became tired. I went to bed. While I was laying in the tent, the couple I talked to came driving around to see if everything was all right. They were from the area and explained to Aaron that people tend to shoot their guns off 'round these parts.

I was terrified for a good 45 minutes. For at least 10 of those minutes, I feel as though I can kind of understand what it would be like to be in a public massacre situation. America can be a very scary place.

We spent our last day in Portland, Oregon. It had been weeks with minimal human contact, and no update on the news. We had breakfast at a diner, and sat at the counter next to an old woman who was obviously lonely and dying to have a conversation. I bit.

She went on to tell us how awful the governor of Oregon was. "Who is the governor?" I asked. "Oh, I don't know his name, I just know he needs to go." And then proceeded to tell me all he does is give hard-working American tax money to the lazy poor people. I asked, "Do you know how much of your tax money is spent on welfare?" She looked at me and said, "I have no idea." "A lot." Wishing to change the subject, I told her we had been away for a while and needed an update on the news - "When we left, Pakistan was doing pretty bad after the floods - do you know how everything is going now?" She looked at me with her meanest evil eye and said sternly, "I don't care for that country."

Sigh. We're back in the real world.

Shortly after we came home, I turned 38! I had a FABULOUS day painting and my sweet husband took me out for a wonderful meal at The Green Table in the Chelsea market. I've never been there before, but highly suggest it...