Chereads / Surviving Downtown Portland Oregon / Chapter 2 - Survival of the Quickest

Chapter 2 - Survival of the Quickest

Here is my first rough draft of my memoirs of living in downtown Portland

Post decriminalized if drugs, post COVID, post defunded police force.

" After getting lost on the max and being color blind in the most exciting ways when push comes to shove..

I found myself in tent city

Now after living here for so long.

Growing up homeless in a van, myself.

And being raised by a meth dealing gypsy

Who had a knack for fast talking, networking, and conning people

I've learned a few things.

And I tend to see more deeply into a person's character than most around me do, or express verbally..

Keep this in mind

Cuz it adds to my own talents for bullshit.

Being charismatic in a pinch, and lucky.

I'm not afraid if a mean ass whipping.

Been there, done that.

I'm always cautious though

It doesn't take much for a curb stomping to go from terrible to life altering.

Being followed and creepy meth head tricks are things my mom incidentally trained me for

So, there I was at 2 AM

Union n station and hoyt

Getting back from a graveyard shift

And I always have Bluetooth headphones in and on.

With no sound.

You'd be surprised who will open up, and get cocky and let details or their plans, insight, observation go.

So I've always acted in theater productions as a kid

(Drama classes were my only A+

Aside from English and I would no longer claim that my English is 100%

I learned to study body language, tonality, telles like human poker cards

Growing up with a shifty mom and fighting her drug addled saviours off and in taught me

Bones heal

Pride can be swallowed.

And even if your opponent is bigger, faster, smarter.

All you need is a bit of Luck

And an angle.

And one good hit.

They crept.on me

Thinking I wasn't aware.

They discussed my Jordans on my feet

269$ dollar shoes

Not smart

But I'm still new to the big city

I had a knife

And so did they, one had a fucking classic crocodile Dundee type of blade..

Like the kind used to hunting, or a tool,

Or to be cruel.

I've always spent time In shadows

I can tell when shadows shift being me, lights, a quick scuffle of steps

When someone speeds up but their high.

And not trying to run at someone

It all happened

But as I said

They didn't know I was aware

So I'm signing loudly with muted headphones and I go all in with hukuna matata

Just for my own laughs.

I bend the corner a little to fast for them as I start skipping and spinning mid chorus.

With allowed me to slide into a random tent

( The owner luckily, wasn't home)

I quickly zipped.it up

And had enough time to pull out my brass knuckles and mace and take a deep breathe.

Well they were slower or more cautious than I gave them credit for

Cuz my heart pounded in ears..

I fought to not allow my anxiety to mangle my breathing patterns

And I allowed my eyes to adjust in the darkness with old techniques I learned from ex-military in my family.

See, they thought I was a quick come up

Nerdy white guy.

Skinny too.

But they didn't see the many little scars in my face, eyebrows, etc

And that I don't care for winning a fight

But if I get one good lick in..

A nice move that'll ensure they never forget me, maybe a scar to remind em when they look in the mirror

I've always been outgunned or overpowered.

Once you get used to that.

You learned there is so much more.

I wait for em to step past the tent

They are immediately confused as I kneel in laters shadows, shit, and literally trash

I didn't zip it up behind me I just ducked.

So I stepped out and sprayed big boy with a little eyeball blister-juice

And immediately when fir his smaller companion.

Little fast hands but mine can fly like lightening

And I let them go

I never hesitate to throat check an asshole.

Cuz nobody wants to fight if they cant breathe right

But it was to much.

And I wasn't careful enough

The big bear must have been kaced before

Cuz before I could turn back on him.

I was being lifted off the ground by my damn throat

His tiw big ole hands cradling my windpipe with a noticeable lack of grace, or delicacy.

ppl tend to panic or kick here.

I didn't

I stopped struggling and managed a few pathetic screeches

And followed it up with a rasping

Well he threw me to the ground and his feet quickly found my skull.

That's where it got bad

And blurry

What I do recall..

Is my knife finding his calf

And I went deep

And twisted.

They didn't get my shoes.

They hurt me bad.

and I did the same right back.

And I didn't win either.

that night was a lesson in underestimating ppl.

From both parties

But life's got a funny way if working things out.

Two days later I was given my first handgun from my oldest pals.

And I saw them again

Trying to rob other homeless ppl.

Call me Corny, But if your gunna Rob people ..

You should really take a Robin Hood-esq-mentality

Or karma will get ya.

and if she doesn't... hell, maybe I will.

And I grew up homeless

These ppl struggle enough

And I had MORE enough

This was the night I did the one thing I swore I never would..

I shot a man in downtown Portland Oregon, and I stood over him, until his lungs went dry..

In a time

Unlike any other in Portlands history.