Oregon Tavern Age: Turds

A Monday afternoon. Sunshine ruled Coos Bay. I sat in my local OTA joint drinking a Gold Beach ale.

The scuttlebutt at the bar centered around the the feral young homeless woman who frequently improvised (meth fueled) landscaping that amounted to ripping out the foliage of public flower beds. The cops had finally arrested her and well, the weeds and wildflowers of Empire were safe for a couple of months.

I also heard an OTA man tell an OTA woman the story of him falling out the back of a pickup truck when he was drunk in the 80s. He had a metal plate installed in his head and it always fucked up the detectors at the airport. It also made his face susceptible to changes when the barometer fell.

Across the room four OTA men swapped tales of either dropping a turd in a swimming pool or encountering a turd in a swimming pool in the 70s. There was also robust laughter about the Baby Ruth floating in the country club pool in Caddyshack. One of the OTAs had pulled the same stunt at a Christian youth group outing to a private pool. (No baptism that afternoon!)

How they initiated this absurd conversation was as lost to history as the origins of the Universe. Maybe the cosmos is one big turd dropped by the Creator. That makes more sense than Genesis.

One of the men said the jolly memory from his youth made him feel like dropping another turd in a public pool. Hello, North Bend Municipal Swimming Pool during senior swim time!