Chainsaw

    On the first day of autumn it was as if someone had flicked a switch to turn on the rainy season. I felt restless, so I forced myself to get out of the house and do a few errands. The light rail seemed to be taking a very long time. I heard some people talking about how one of the trains had hit a car. 

    Eventually the train showed up and it was packed. No one moved for me so I sat precariously on my knee scooter and held on to the pole. Everyone was talking about the train that had hit the car; no one had any details but they all had opinions about it. I picked up my prescriptions at Safeway then headed to the downtown Office Max. It was a lousy location and a lousy company but I’d been buying my pens  there since I’d moved to Portland so I felt a certain amount of fond animosity towards it. The store used to be two levels then at some point the basement part became a TJ Maxx. At some point that closed and after limping along for years the rest of the store was finally closing down. I was hoping they’d have some good sales but the pens were only 10% off. I grabbed the last package on the shelf. 

    Downtown smelled like rotting fish, the way it always does when the first rainfall mixes with the crow guano on the brick sidewalks to make a sort of rancid slurry. I got back on the train to head across the river to get something to eat. Once again no one moved for me. Men sprawled across the seats as if they’d been tossed there like dolls, deep in the sleep of addiction.

    I got off at the convention center and rolled up to Burgerville. It was the weekend of the Rose City Comic Con and despite the rain the streets were filled with people in costume. Everyone seemed really young and I couldn’t tell what they were supposed to be dressed as. I felt even more old and out of touch than usual. 

    The woman behind the counter stared at me blankly without saying a word. I had to repeat my order three times and she still didn’t get it right. I sat down with my number and watched the colorful characters parade past. There were plenty of Comic Conners in the restaurant as well, clutching bags advertising Stranger Things and Dark Horse Comics. Vampires sucking milkshakes, Anime princesses gobbling French fries. At the next table over sat a young man and woman dressed in British school uniforms. He was paunchy with a man bun and a samurai sword across his back. She was gorgeous, heavily made up with bright pink hair. Her uniform was distractingly tight. They had a child with them who appeared to be dressed as a chainsaw, with the blade sticking out of his head and a handle on his back.

    As my food arrived, the woman ordered the child to blow his nose. He didn’t seem able to, so she told the man to help. After a few minutes of watching the spectacle of sniffling and snorting she stood up and held a napkin to the child’s nose. 

    “Go ahead and blow, baby,” she said. “Harder. Harder. That’s it. Harder. Yes. Yes. Don’t stop. Don’t stop, baby. Harder. Harder. That’s it, baby. That’s it. You can do it. Harder. That’s it. Yes. Yes. Yes.” This went on for an uncomfortably  long time. Finally she gave the kid’s nose one final wipe and said, “I don’t see any more boogers. Not really sure why that that took so long.” The chainsaw looked up at her with his mouth agape. They all got up end left and I finished my meal and got back on the train. No one moved to give me a seat. A group of robots and aliens laughed in the corner. I sat on my scooter and held on tight and watched the rain splattering the windows as we headed back across the river.