Oregon Tavern Age: Pest Control

I sat at my usual table at noon in neighborhood OTA country, drinking an ale, daydreaming of someone, and writing in my journal. A three-foot fake Christmas tree rested on the table. It was half decorated with balls and plastic candy canes. Whenever I stopped daydreaming and writing, I added a ball or cane from the box on a chair.

An octogenarian man wearing a uniform entered and went behind the bar after greeting the female bartender. He was hailed by the regulars as Bill the Pest Control Man and he went straight to work doing pest control things. Bill mentioned that he’d been working since five in the morning. Apparently one of the tribal casinos had a major problem.

I continued to daydream and write and decorate.

An elderly homeless woman with a shaved head barged inside. She looked exhausted and deranged. The bartender told her to “get out!” Then she said it again. And again.

The woman wanted a water.

NO!

The woman wanted to use the restroom.

NO!

The homeless woman swore up a storm and left.

I asked the bartender about her. I hadn’t seen this homeless woman before.

The bartender didn’t know. Must be new to town.

More keep coming to my neighborhood. But a 70-year-old deranged woman with a shaved head?

Truly, the 250-year-old American experiment is dead.