The snow has derailed Portland. In a good way and a bad way. People are funny when their routine is shaken up. The snow has made some friendlier and some crankier here in Portland. It’s similar to how some people like to travel because they thrive on their routine being shaken up and others need routine, requiring a certain type of vacation, one with a strict itinerary.
This is a place where snow happens year round at the mountain (at least on the glacier), but never happens in the City of Portland. When it does happen in Portland, everyone is caught off guard and unprepared. I grew up having to shovel snow every winter, but I still don’t own a snow shovel now that I live in Portland. It rarely snows and any sane person would rather their taxes go to schools than several snow plows to dig us out of being snowed in once every 5 years. So instead we venture out and use public transportation in its limited capacity. The Tri Met bus driver I met this morning was quite happy to be getting around with chains on his bus. He was laid back enough to roll with the disrupted city. He was being extra careful because his bus driver buddy was stuck for 15 hours waiting to get road assistance when he got stuck because his chains broke off.
When routine is disrupted people do out of the ordinary things. People are starting conversations on the train with strangers. They are paying attention to others and asking if they need help. They are stopping to lend a hand. Maybe it’s because suddenly we are not in any hurry and we are forced to be slow and careful with our movements from our feet to the wheels of our car. We have time to look around.
A walk from one snow route bus stop to another on 82nd avenue revealed the cranky bastard out in the snow who is just frustrated and not going to keep his mouth shut about it. I ran into two of them this morning. They are “sick of the snow” and wishing the snow would let them “at least get into the door of work” (a sex shop on 82nd). The cranky people are shoveling their driveway and swearing it’s “the last time.”
Why are some still enchanted with the snow and others just miserable? Is it something deeper? Are some people more positive and able to see the positive in a messy situation? Or maybe some of us like to wallow and bitch, while others just want to enjoy the strange, the ordinary, and the world in its entirety.
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