Rose Festival Meltdown I

Once again, it's that special time in Portland where the city fills with sailors, carnies, parade-chasers and tourists--The Rose Festival! I believe it's every Portland transplants rite of passage to get stoned and go down to the fun center at least one time in their lives, but other than that, coming downtown during the month of June should generally be avoided. Downtown businesses, as I have observed, are either for or against the Rose Festival, without much middle ground. Rocco's Pizza, for instance, makes a killing during the Festival kickoff, The Starlight Parade, and from there it's just a walk in the park. For us, things start going south when the ships arrive, and the day of the Rose Parade is a lesson in futility. Having accepted the reality of a slow time during the beginning of June after the second year, I generally try to make the most of the weird business by focusing on cleaning projects, or this year, blogging.

Today, a family of four came into the Half & Half. They were not typical Half & Half customers, by which I am not trying to say that we have a specific type. In my mind, customers/potential customers are split into two categories: Those who come in delighted/intrigued, and those who flee in fear or confusion. Just today a woman in her 70's visiting from Denver came in twice for pie and will be coming back tomorrow for soup. Plenty of 'cool looking' people come in and turn their heels before you can even ask how their day is going. So back to my atypical family of four. First, the mother and 5-6 year old daughter come in (oh, and I forgot to mention the presence of "billy", a slightly unhinged character that sporadically spends too much time with us. The family came in at the precise moment that I had had absolutely my fill of "Billy" for the day.) Mom orders a latte. I make it, and as I serve it to her she decides to ask her husband what he wants. Annoying. Eight year old son comes in, and starts whining that he wants coffee. This gets the girl whining, and suddenly there's a cacophony of "I want coffee! can I have coffee, Mom?" I am shocked to hear Mom relent and order a second latte for her children to share. (Cultural Disclaimer--the family appeared Middle Eastern, and that perhaps indicates tolerance for underage coffee drinking?) While I am making the second latte, several more customers form a line behind the mom & kids. Dad has entered just to sit down at a table. I serve the second latte. As the mom is picking out doughnuts and cookies, the kids are demanding whipped cream for their lattes. And fighting with each other. And whining to their parents. By now I have four people waiting to order various foods and beverages, and mom asks, "what kinds of sandwiches do you have?" which is the most loathed question asked of me, ever. Look around. Do you see sandwiches in the case? Do they have descriptions in front of them? Do you see a printed menu? Does it not too, have sandwich descriptions? Why the fuck are you asking me what kind of sandwiches I have????? I hold my palm to my forehead, take a deep breath and say, "Well, our turkey sandwich today has granny smith apples, red onion, swiss cheese and dijon." That is enough to convince her to forget the sandwich and get another apple fritter. After the transaction is completed, the children each come back to the counter to get more whipped cream. They don't say please or thank you. I tell myself if they ask again, I am not going to give them any more, but lucky for them they don't press their luck. They leave a trail of doughnut crumbs and latte puddles in their wake. But at least they have left.

I don't know I'm really able to capture the chaos that this family brought with them. I'm sure they're not bad people (though certainly ill mannered, which is almost a qualifier.) But tourists, man. I see this all the time, parents bring their children to a public place and they absolve themselves of any responsibility or consideration to the people with whom they share space. And in a 400 square foot room occupied by 12 people, it's particularly unnerving. Then in my disgust I remember (what I haven't blocked out) what outings and vacations were like in my family. Whining. Pinches. Tears. Severe fights between all members. Ten times worse than the latte family. And it makes me ask, does anyone enjoy a family vacation? Can they exist without negative impact? Do I hate children? (I don't think so...) This event has aroused a small existential crisis, which will not doubt be revisited again and again until the Grand Floral Parade.