Bonus points if you catch that line. Really. I might have a giveaway.
So, pardon the absence but as you and everyone who knows me knows, event week was even more hell than usual this year.
Thursday, in a meeting with people from the city and county, I found out why.
A bit of backstory: the City of Portland, Oregon - where my event is held - used to be called "the City of Roses." Really. That was its official branded tagline. Which is sweet. Sappy, maybe. But in the past decade or so, Portland has changed from a kind of dull, former logging-economy town to one invaded by Prius-driving hipsters. (No offense if you are a Prius-driving hipster, unless you're one of the ones who is constantly cutting me off in traffic and refusing to let me merge. In which case, fuck off!)
Portland's tag line is now "The City that Works."
Well, let me tell you, many times, it doesn't. Back to Thursday. After nearly running us out of our own event, the huge, for-profit company that puts on a half marathon that invades the east side of our city had to sit down with city and county people, fire, public transport, traffic engineers (that is how many peoples' lives they fuck up for their event - our tax dollars at work) - and me!
And I found out that - I am not making this up - THERE IS NO one central location/person/bureau/department/database that has all of the construction and event permit information in one place.
And it was all I could do not to blurt out, "Are you fucking kidding me?" That was my first thought. Immediately followed by, "Of course. That is SO PORTLAND."
This is the city that chose streets that were under construction as the detour route for a major, separate construction project. Fuckety fuck fuck.
And on that note, now that our event is done, the relief is such that this must be what valium feels like. Thank you to all who have donated (I hit my goal and raised $2,500, and my team has raised almost $7,000 - more on that later) and cheered me on - we had the biggest number of walkers ever.
But of course I couldn't keep my language to myself, apparently even when I accidentally called my dad, who, by the way, was my biggest donor and has always been my biggest champion, and doesn't mind when I say fuck! Thanks, Pop!
So in talking to him this afternoon, he said, "You know, when you butt-dialed me, I saw I had a voicemail from you. Then I started to listen and I didn't hear anything but background noise, and then I heard someone say, 'Fuck! They've closed off the roads too early!' and I knew that was my daughter!"
Yep, that's family pride.