The Falafel Incident

Pearl: Yuppie in a business suit leaves office, climbs on a skateboard and skates away.

Old Town: A drag queen in man drag calling himself Dark River sings a bawdy song called "Analingus," lifting its tune from "Fergilicious." Toward the end, he drops trou and a dowdily dressed drag queen runs to the stage and services him from behind. The hostess mounts the stage and tells the dowdy drag queen, "Honey, I've gotten so good at that I can tell what the guy had for dinner the night before. Let me smell." She blows in the MC's face, who makes a snide expression. "Falafel," she says.

Old Town: Standing outside smoking, we're joined by a young black man who tells us that the two guys across the street are police informants. Then he lights up what looks like a round sugar cube on the end of a golf tee.

Northwest: A gelled and styled teenage boy walks his mother. She says, "Can't you walk a little more like you're straight?" He says, "Nobody thinks I'm straight." She rolls her eyes. "That's for sure."

MAX: A young Amish couple boards the streetcar. She's wearing a pioneer dress and head wrap; he's wearing a hand sewn work uniform. On their feet: Nike cross trainers.

Old Town: A man in a walker slowly leaves a dive gay bar; one minute later another man in a walker enters.

NW Trendy 23rd: I attempt to order bacon in a Jewish deli, am rebuffed.

Powells: I wait an hour to have my book signed by Michael Chabon; when I arrive at his table, I'm too shy to say anything but, "thank you."

NW 22nd: I arrive home to find a camera crew photographing a strange woman on my living room sofa.

Stark St., Fleet Week: Two uniformed sailors walk past a gay bar. A fag hag tells them their asses look cute in sailor pants. They turn around and decide to head back to the bar until my bf - traitorously - dissuades them.

Waterfront, Pride Day: A cute boy in an athletic uniform runs up and hands me a flier about joining a Rugby team. That's right: Me on a rugby team; load that on YouTube and I'd have more hits than the cat who plays piano.

NW Gallery District: A male pit bull attempts to rape me.

SE, outside Rotture: I call out drunkenly to a hipster entering a trendy club, "Didn't I see you today at Urban Outfitters?" He turned away in a quick flash of shame.
Chinatown: A sign advertises the Hung Farlow building.

NW 22nd, 12th and Stark, apt. on Montgomery: Three separate locations where within a week's time I find a VHS copy of "Elvira, Mistress of the Dark." I begin to get the impression that Elvira must be psychically attempting to communicate with me.

Burnside: A homeless man storms off into the night ranting about Hillary Clinton.

MAX: A man in a security guard uniform twitches angrily and mutters to himself.

NW Trendy Third: A group of moronic yuppie tourists stop traffic on a busy street obliviously in order to point at a Pottery Barn. I push my way through them and do not apologize. I feel like a true Portlander.

Old Town: We're playing pool at a dive bar; two other guys in the room are playing video poker on bar benches. One falls off the bench hard on his ass; he quickly leaves the room hoping no one will notice. He still has money on the game.