I sit here in McMenamins Kennedy School in Portland, Oregon, unable to wrap my head around what I observed, not only as the tour bus entered the city, but around the Amtrak station and during the Uber ride to my current location.
The one word that comes to mind is an adjective I normally refuse to make use of because media, video games, and movies pour it over everything in order to paint the bleakest mental image possible. This is the one exception I’ll make because it’s the only word that has not stopped repeating itself inside my head during our approach to Portland.
Dystopian. To be precise, a dystopian nightmare. A cross between Walking Dead and I Am Legend. There’s so much graffiti, I had to assume the city must pass it out for free at local rest stops as a “Welcome to Portland Tag Kit”. In between graffiti art (using “art” loosely) are the homeless compounds. Tent cities. Shopping cart parking & storage.
If I were employed by the ever popular propaganda networks, I could debate the fact that Portland does not have nearly as many homeless as it would appear. Depending on what guidelines they have twisted into place, a tent could be considered a domestic domicile and then handed out freely.
Then again, if that concept were true, those who seek to benefit from Portland’s destruction would’ve already kicked them out of the tents and set up rental properties as “Minimalistic Urban Experience Pods with carbon positive footprints”
Anyway, I sat in awe. I wanted to capture everything with digital images to prove that this city really has tumbled downhill at the speed and intensity of an avalanche. I decided against pictures. I did not want to promote the cosmetic destruction of taxpayer-funded bridges and overpasses the same way the media makes money, by sensationalizing tragedy in an attempt to gain likes and followers.
I could feel my anxiety grow as we made our way deeper into the city. The tents that I once saw off the highway and under the bridges had moved to the sidewalks right alongside the bus. No matter what street we were on. No matter where we were. I didn’t want to get off the bus. I didn’t want to leave the station. I damn sure was paranoid about getting out of the Uber at my destination. This level of fear from a man who once was a metrosexual 20’s white guy that partied in Houston’s 5th Ward back in the day? My concern was not without merit.
The main difference between Houston and Portland was that I knew what to expect in 5th Ward. I was that renegade single grain of white rice that found its way into the mixed rice bowl. I was safe as long as I kept my head down and respected all the colors that crossed my path.
Fueled by media propaganda and pictures shared on social media, I felt as though in Portland, violence could come from anyone, anywhere, anytime, and for any reason. I’m a 50 year old overweight white guy with short hair and a trimmed-down beard that walks with a hobble. Any of those traits could be the only reason someone needed to shiv me.
Moments after our bus dropped us off at the train terminal, a young lady and her German Shepherd walked up to me and asked a question about checking in. She had on cargo pants and an olive green coat that looked like an old military issue jacket. It was a scene straight out of I Am Legend. It fit perfectly into the moment.
The same environment was observed on my way into Los Angeles. Trash, graffiti, hopelessness. I thought Washington, Oregon and California were supposed to be showing the rest of the country how to live better… healthier… greener? Did I misunderstand something? Everything I witnessed leads me to the conclusion that what they are leading us into is a total dependency on government handouts… which means being under someone else’s foot. If you hand over your freedom believing someone else is going to care for you, you’d best be prepared to live by their rules without resistance.
And I believe that’s just another form of slavery.
Am I being dramatic? I won’t lie. I do have a talent for being dramatic at times, especially when I’m overwhelmed by what I see/experience. But for this story, none was needed. I was in awe of what has been allowed to happen to this country.
Off The Rails 