I just woke up on a sofa in Pendleton, OR, extremely hung over. I cannot begin to describe the extent of my headache, but I also don’t know where the Advil is stored in this house I’m crashing at. The novelty air rifle and 40-inch TV, however, are quite visible. Also, there’s a dunk tank in the backyard. Welcome to Pendleton! Patrick Alan Coleman and I will be here all weekend, blogging about the 100th Anniversary Pendleton Round Up.
I got into town last night just before sunset. The stretch leading into town resembled a country-western Hooverville, with tents set up on every scrap of land. An alarming amount of people were wearing pink cowboy shirts.
My Craigslist ride dropped me off in town (hello, Trista! Enjoy those cashews.). I start to slog up a steep hill to my host’s house and immediately guy in tight jeans and a large belt overtakes me, offering to carry my bag. He introduces himself as Riley and wants to let me know there’s a dance party at his house right now. Thanks, Riley. I tell him I have to go “charge my phone” (worst. excuse. ever.) but ask him what the deal is with all the people wearing pink. “Oh, it’s breast cancer Tuesday. Thursday. What day is it?” he says, “The rodeo’s been going on a long time.” He then tells me to never listen to the rodeo clown, hands back my bag and takes off walking in the opposite direction. Thanks, Riley.
After the necessary phone charging, I plunge into downtown. It’s drizzling slightly and I stop under the awning of a church to watch the crowd go by.
A church-going lady seizes the opportunity, asking me if I want to take a quick test to see if I’m going to Heaven. The test starts off with some tricksy Bible brainteasers (“How many animals of each kind did Moses put on the Arc? NONE! Moses wasn’t on the Arc! Haha!”) but after a handful of these, she looks me in the eye and asks, “Have you ever had lustful thoughts for a man?” She tells me that if I died tonight, i would go straight to Hell. Slightly fazed by my response that I don’t believe in Heaven or Hell or God, she takes out a tiny laminated card. Jesus is on the front. The devil is on the back, burning in Hell. She points to the Hell side emphatically. “It’s a real place,” she says.
So don’t worry about me, guys, she’s praying for me this weekend. Let’s hope she prays me out of this hangover.
Wait. Aren’t you one of them females? I thought Christians didn’t like homosexuality… they’re against heterosexuality now too?
Are you having lustful thoughts for a man….right NOW?
“PAC and I will be here all weekend, blogging about the 100th Anniversary Pendleton Round Up. ” Why? So you can write snide blog posts about white people in hats and jeans. Lustful thoughts won’t send you to hell, but making fun of God’s chosen people will
Ah, my hometown.
Growing up there -most of the year- was pretty much like growing up in any small town in America, despite Pendleton seemingly being stuck in some other decade. What decade it was exactly continues to elude me.
But for one week every September, it was Mardi Gras on the high plains. I saw my first examples of drinking, fucking and fighting in the street. I saw my first dead body when I was thirteen: he had just been beaten to death minutes before my drunk ass stumbled on up.
My daughter’s going over there today. She’s good though; she can take care of herself. She’s a farm girl.
America 100 years ago? Prohibition’s right around the corner, chumps! I’ll be sitting pretty here in the future, thank you very much.
On the other hand, women voters (am I right fellas?).
1910 America is coming again? I can’t wait to turn my jingoism towards Irish and Germans again. Like they’ll ever fit in here.
Why does that praying cowboy look like a penis?
No really: just for those who were not reading so much…I SAW THE BODY OF A DEAD PERSON WHO HAD RECENTLY BEEN BEATEN TO DEATH ON THE MAIN STREET OF THE TOWN I GREW UP IN WHILE DRUNK AND IN JUNIOR HIGH. I’m just sayin’…
I too have seen a dead body.
Yeah, I was not what you’d call sober at 2:16 this morning.
Later on, when I was working at OHSU, I saw lots of dead bodies, but that’s kinda different.
Riley’s dance party was off the hook. You really should have come. We have some video. Let er buck.