Portland Pride and Apparently I Belong to a Dog

This weekend was Portland Pride, and despite still recovering from a kidney infection, I decided I was at least going to *attempt* to make it out there.

I was still on antibiotics, my kidneys were still sore, and I honestly had no idea how much energy I was going to have. Saturday was basically a test. Go volunteer at the Q Center, pay attention to how my body feels, and then decide whether Sunday was a good idea or whether I should stay home and be sensible... Being sensible has never really been my strongest quality.

I got to the festival early enough to wander around before my shift started. There was a face painter doing different Pride flags, so I figured if I don't own any Pride merch, I might as well become the Pride merch. She painted the trans flag colors on my face, which was honestly a lot of fun.

The rest of the afternoon was spent at the Q Center booth handing out resources, running the prize wheel, and talking to people. I worked most of the day with Joelle, and every few minutes I'd overhear another conversation about a service I didn't even know existed.

The biggest surprise of the day wasn't anything I expected.

One of Joelle's friends stopped by and pointed out a pamphlet for an organization called Healing House.

Wait... This exists?

Healing House is a place where transgender people recovering from surgery can stay if they don't have a support system nearby. The guy who started it had gone through surgery himself and realized there really wasn't much out there if you didn't have someone to help you recover. So he just... built the thing. I love people like that.

I ended up getting his email, and he invited me to come see the house sometime. I'd honestly love to volunteer there if I can.

By the time I got home Saturday night, I was exhausted. The good news was... exhausted was all I was. I hadn't made myself sick, I wasn't feeling dramatically worse, and I hadn't managed to undo a week's worth of healing. By my standards, that's practically restraint.

So Sunday morning I packed snacks, grabbed way too much water for both Alton and me, and headed back downtown.

One thing that has pleasantly surprised me about Portland is parking. The city-owned garages are seven dollars for the entire weekend day. Public transit would have been five, but with the heat, my knee my kidneys, and a dog in tow, having the truck nearby seemed worth the extra two dollars.

Before I even made it to the parade, I found what looked like hundreds of e-bikes lined up. Naturally, I assumed there was some kind of race. Nope.

Portland was attempting to break the world record for the longest line of e-bikes. Apparently that's a thing.

I wasn't aware anyone was keeping track, but they ended up breaking the previous record by almost three times, so congratulations, I guess.

There was also a fountain nearby that kept catching the sunlight just right, throwing a huge rainbow across the water every few minutes. You really couldn't have planned a more appropriate backdrop if you'd tried.

I picked a spot a little farther back to see how Alton handled the crowds before moving closer to the parade. Turns out he handled them considerably better than I did.

While I was waiting for the parade to start, I suddenly heard someone call my name. For about two seconds I just froze. How does somebody here know me?

It turned out to be Jesse, whom I'd met the day before. Somehow, out of a crowd of something like 80,000 people, he, his wife, and their three-year-old daughter had picked a spot right next to me.

It was kind of a weird feeling.

I've only been here a few weeks, and suddenly somebody in this enormous city knew my name. That was nice.

The parade itself was incredible. I don't think I realized just how massive it was until someone nearby casually mentioned it takes about three and a half hours to pass. I made it through roughly two and a half before deciding I'd had enough parade and wanted to explore the festival itself.

Since I'd spent most of Saturday volunteering, this was my first chance to actually wander. I checked out artists, community organizations, food vendors, therapy resources, and all kinds of local groups.

And then I stopped being an individual, I became "Alton's person."

Everyone wanted to pet him. Everyone wanted to give him treats. Everyone wanted to tell me about their dog. Apparently owning a dog isn't compatible with quietly wandering around minding your own business.

He forced me into more conversations with strangers in one afternoon than I've probably had in the last month combined. He, of course, was having the time of his life.

Thankfully, most of the festival was on grass instead of pavement, so his paws stayed cool. I still kept dragging him over to the water stations every so often to soak him down because by late afternoon it had gotten surprisingly hot.

Can somebody from Portland explain your weather to me? Everywhere else I've lived, the hottest part of the day is around two. Here it just keeps getting hotter until five. Who approved this design?

By around 4:30 both Alton and I had decided we'd accomplished enough for one weekend. He was starting to overheat, I could definitely feel the last two days catching up with me, and heading home sounded like an outstanding decision.

The last couple of days have been considerably less exciting. Mostly medical follow-ups, therapy intake, paperwork, updating my CV, and starting applications for substitute teaching.

Basically back to all the glamorous parts of moving to a new city.

Meanwhile, Alton went to the groomer.

He'd accumulated enough sticks, burrs, dirt, and whatever else dogs manage to find that it was definitely time. Unfortunately, he also had some matting in his ears and tail, so those had to be shaved.

He's gone from looking like a fluffy little Muppet to looking like somebody accidentally crossed a poodle with a gremlin.

He remains blissfully unaware of this. As far as he's concerned, he's still the most handsome dog in Portland.

Judging by the amount of attention he received over the weekend...

...he might actually be right.Read more