May 5: Happy Sunday

Sunday was an amazing day. It’s taken me this long to sleep off my hangover sort it all out in my head to blog about it, it was THAT amazing. Let me first introduce you to the players:

1. Me. Yes, I was there.
2. Victor. He’s the snore-y dude I sleep next to every night.
3. Larry. A classmate from college. We’ve re-connected on Facebook in the past year. He took pictures of me topless on Saturday. Larry lives in Spokane.
4. Kim F’n. Also a classmate from college. I didn’t like her when we first met because my friends were always hanging out with her but then they left for France and we cried on each other’s shoulders and realized we liked each other better than we liked our mutual friends. It’s been all-love-all-the-time in the 20+ years since. Kim lives in Sandy, which is not a pit and even has a Jack in the Box with a fireplace.
5. Mike. A high school and college classmate, also one of the aforementioned mutual friends of mine and Kim’s. There’s a good chance that Larry and Mike have showered together. I am not going to explain that further even though I bet they wish I would. Mike lives in Boise.

All of us were students at WWC/U at the same time, but somehow Kim and Vic had never met Larry. Recently, though, Kim and Larry have bonded over their love of correcting Mike’s typos on Facebook and they finally met in person on Sunday. Larry came to Portland to meet up with friends and take pictures of me without my hair (more on that in another post). Mike flew over from Boise for the day to defend himself. He failed.

The plan was for us all to meet for a late lunch at Bridgeport Village. Loveliest Lori was invited but turned us down, which forced us all to drink away our sorrow; she’ll surely show up at Who Drove You to Drink? Day at the rehab clinic, right?

Late Sunday morning I tracked down Mike at a Starbucks near the airport, where he and his sister were discussing red rum and finding drunk teens on the lawn. It was titillating conversation. I picked up one juicy nugget: as a kid, Mike used to beat up on his sister. His sister who is, like, six years older than him. Sooo not nice. I’m pretty sure this will not surprise Larry or Kim.

Mike and I headed back to Clackamas to pick up Vic, and I ran off the road once or six times along the way. It scared Mike. Whatevs. How am I supposed to talk, flip off other drivers, wipe my nose, drink my Irish coffee, text, change the music, and stay between the lines all at the same time? I have cancer!

Mike insisted I turn my car keys over to Vic, and we headed south to Bridgeport. I’m concerned that Mike might be geographically challenged; he asked more than once where we were. I’m pretty sure this will not surprise Larry or Kim.

We were early, so we wandered around and did some shopping while exchanging ETA texts with Larry and Kim. Mike was all stocked up on leg warmers, so we didn’t even go into American Apparel. Borders does not have a very good porn collection, but they don’t charge to ride the escalators so it evens out, or so Victor claims. He really likes to ride the escalators.

Eventually the good people at California Pizza Kitchen seated us. Kim showed up soon after, fresh from a single mom weekend at Eagle Crest, which Mike had zero interest in hearing about. Larry came straight from brunch with another friend. It’s possible that he thinks there are nothing but restaurants in Portland. Here we are:

 Mike, Kim, Larry

Kim, Vic, Jen
(Kim has to be in every picture—good thing she’s cute)

 

Three of the five of us wore vests. Larry thinks Mike’s shirt collar points look like curly fries but he really has no room to talk. Kim and I have matching necklaces, gifts from Loveliest Lori. Mike’s been wearing a Foot Locker bracelet since 1998. Victor has a giant head and two wives.

The titillating conversation that started with Mike and his sister continued at our lunch, but if you ask me, there was way too much talk about urine and walking around carrying bottles of one’s urine. To ensure his stories were not the most disgusting, though, Mike asked Kim to share her paramedic career-ending (pausing) call. I preferred her more comical samurai knife story, which was not so much a career-ender as a career-laughing-your-ass-off-er. Here’s a little hint for conversation with Kim: she will tell you anything and everything about being a paramedic if you ask. Don’t.

Loveliest Lori called and we passed our phones around so she could talk to everyone but-cept Vic, who she apparently doesn’t care about or something. It wasn’t even close to the same as having her there with us, but it was good to hear her voice. We’re all still super-sad and drinking heavily because of her refusal to join us.

Larry talked about how he went from being professor to photographer, and how his job often involves marriage counseling when the photo subjects require wildly different exposures. If you vary much in appearance from your prospective spouse, remember that Larry’s got Photoshop skillz. Make him use them.

HIPAA laws prevented Victor and Mike from sharing anything about their work. Either HIPAA laws don’t apply to paramedics or Kim ignores them. It’s another reason that I love Kim—girl’s got stories. The vagueness Vic has to use when talking about work takes the entertainment value from funny-things-people-put-in-their-holes stories, and he almost never brings home pictures anymore. Pffft.

I don’t think I talked about what I do for a living at all. However, I might have mentioned once or twice that I have cancer. Might.

Kim flossed at the table again. Or maybe she glossed. Not sure.

About halfway through our meal, a group of morose teens were seated at the booth behind Mike. One kid kept turning around to look at us—not glare, not stare, just look—and although we’d like to blame it on Mike’s choice of subject or the volume of Mike’s voice or the constancy of Mike’s voice, we really don’t know why he continued to do it. Maybe he thought we were surprisingly cool for being of such advanced age? Or he had become deaf while sitting so close to Mike? Because this is what being near Mike was like:

If you think you can get through a conversation with Mike uninjured, you probably think it’s safe to drunkenly race away from cops with a samurai knife between your legs too (and here’s your Darwin Award, by the way).

To be on the safe side, we each enjoyed a little packet of Pop Rocks—if they cure cancer, they probably cure eye pokes and deafness and samurai knife cuts too, right? (Thanks to Sherilee, BTW, who provided them—those little packets were perfect for this occasion!)

Here are another few photos, just for fun:

Oh-so-conveniently, there was a lamppost outside CPK that was begging to be danced around. I got three new pictures of people who hate cancer:

 
Larry … Mike … Victor
All of these are clickable so you can see larger, more detailed, more freaky (in Mike’s case) versions.

 

Hugs and sad goodbyes ended our fabulous day together. It was tremendous fun, and we’re already looking forward to another reunion. We’d love to add more attendees for the next one. Kim, Mike, Larry, Vic: anything I forgot? Please refer to your notes and add glaring omissions in a comment. Thanks.

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Hawaii Laura was invited to this lunch, but didn’t make it because who would ever want to leave Hawaii? We had also hoped April and Sherilee could be there but they had other things going on too. Laura and I figured out exactly how we can get ourselves all together BUT IN HAWAII NEXT TIME.

Jen to Laura:

Yeah, I don't think anyone's gonna argue about Hawaii being our next meeting location. We need to set it up so we can all make it a business expense, though. Let's see, we've got a photographer, paramedic, physical therapist, software trainer, CT tech... and we must include Sherilee (plus she'd bring good food, I bet) and April (marketing babe).

Laura to Jen:

Let's see...... the software trainer can come over to conduct a seminar, which the marketer will market. Said trainer will then have a sudden fall (too hard to swing?), at which point the paramedic will perform a rescue while the photographer documents the trauma drama. The CT tech will provide a second opinion on the CTs confirming no serious injury was sustained. The caterer will cook comfort food during the recovery period at the beach, at which point I'll provide refreshingly cool drinks.

I’m definitely on board with that plan.

 

Photos somewhat apologetically stolen from Larry’s and Kim’s Facebook albums