I didn’t intend to make this a love story, but I’ll try this as a matter of course to see if it’s funny to anyone else, as I just remembered it on the whole.
I was on the Max, headed into downtown, reading Sorrows of Young Werther, trying to pay no mind to the other passengers. Such a mindset is not for everyone. A girl raised her voice in my direction, asking if I knew what stop would put her closest to the library. I guess the query made sense - I was reading, I look intelligent and thoughtful in my glasses, and I am not disturbing to look at. I tilted my head up, and there she was. Soft dreadlocks in a scarf, asymmetrical lower-lipring, very sweet brown eyes, mischeivous smile. So I fell in love. And with love, and surprise and sheepishness covering my face all at once, I told her I didn’t even know where the library was, but I thought Pioneer Courthouse Square would probably be close to it. The hispanic fellow across from me pulled out his earbuds, and half glanced over his shoulder to dispute my conjecture. But he wasn’t in love, he was just trying to be helpful. “You’re stealing my fire!” I shot at him in the depths of my heart. Cute dreadlocks thanked him for telling her to get off at the stop after the one I had mentioned, and then returned to her cell phone conversation. Then, in my fervor to be even more helpful, I motioned for her to get off at the stop before mine, not the one after, and then, realizing my mistake, shook my head a “nevermind”. She nodded, and smiled, and I will never see her again.
I walked across the open amphitheater and sat on the brick steps on the south end of the square. There were already random zombies walking around, only noticable because of white/black makeup and blood-stained clothes only slightly more ragged than would be normal to see in downtown Portland. I pulled out my book once more, threw on my glasses, and waited.
And then three girls sat down next to me. Of course, one of them was cute (odds are, out of three girls, I’ll think one is cute, unless we are in a Siberian nursing home). Great shoes. Doing the dress over jeans thing that I don’t particularly care for, but when she’s cute- whatever, right? So I smiled at her, and she paid me no attention. At least I didn’t fall in love as hard this time.
The zombies assembled, and with some very impressive specimens, indeed. High school cheerleader zombie was fun to see. Zombie Batman - quite nice. Umbrella Corporation uniformed men with gas masks (a useless reference to somebody unfamiliar with Resident Evil). Zombie nurse apparently thought her costume needed to include an open shirt showing a scarred chest below her bra. It was a little surprising to see, no doubt. There were zombie nuns, but no priest. Zombie brides, but no groom. Zombie rednecks, zombie lumberjacks, zombie housewives - but my favorite, and surprisingly the most noticible out of what I guess would be several hundred in full zombie regalia… drum roll please…. Zombie Where’s Waldo!
No, I didn’t fall in love with any zombies. Only a handful actually did the Thriller dance, which was the reason I was there. I thought all of them were going to, which would have been amazing (two hundred people doing the same choreography… and if we got Thriller playing in the background… that would be cool). Then they left for the Zombie walk through downtown, where they were told to be careful when scaring people (due to the availibility of tasers, pepper spray, and hand guns), and to not openly use drugs while on the zombie walk, and maybe the last thing was something about not loitering. So they stammered off, and I went to Chipotle.
This time, my ability to fall in love was nearly worn out for the night, so I just saw a girl (cute of course) with great shoes coming into Chipotle. That was really it. So maybe using the phrase “falling in love” is becoming pretty useless with me, which is probably for the better. I finished my burrito, Goethe, and my drink, and jumped on the train for home.
What did I learn tonight? 1). Always act like you know where something is, even if you don’t. 2). Zombies are people, too, you know. 3). If you are a character in a book, don’t shoot yourself in the forehead with a pistol unless you don’t plan to die for half a day. In real life, I’m not sure I want to give you advice about shooting yourself. 4). There are plenty of cute girls around, and no real reason for me to talk to any of them, sadly.