another hopeless journey to nowhere

Delivering wine for a living sounds like a fine profession... It is not. It's not the worst, but far from fine. They don't give me a discount, and the hours are inconsistent at best. She sends me a text--Can you come in at 8:45AM tomorrow? Earl just made another order. It's 11PM... Great. I was at the bar thinking i worked at noon... Off to bed. Late. Missed coffee. Missed breakfast. Missed sleep.

The van starts up fine... The smell of Diesel fills my nose. I drive to Salem, about an hour each way. It's an easy delivery and the Italian owner is the real stand up type. I like him--He's short, balding, has a thick accent and his face has the look of a worn out boxer.... I wonder what brought this poor fool from his "Madrepatria" to the armpit of Oregon called Salem? I drive back to Portland and get another one out to Hillsboro--Another shit-hole about 45 Min. outside of Portland. I used to think the guy at this wine shop was a total douche-bag. I'm wrong today, he is polite and gives me 25% off a bottle of red.

The day is looking up and i have a descent bottle of Oregon Pinot Noir

to share with a certain lady friend of mine upon her return to the States.

The last delivery is downtown to a club called "Dirty".

Dirty? Jesus... I unload 5 cases of Prosecco in front of the homeless shelter on W. Burrnside and 3rd. I walk past the line of hungry washed up tweekers, drunkards and aspiring writers waiting for their cot and a food handout. The "club" is next door. The front door is locked. A sign reads:

Dirty Nightlife:

no hats
no sneakers--any color,
no gold teeth...

The sign went on and on and on...

So, disgusted with this meat market I walk around to the side door. Locked.

I smell something. Something horrendous. I look down in amazement and disbelief. My foot and my hand truck have found a steaming fresh pile of bum shit; A pile the size of a sewer rat but the shape and color of an apple fritter...

Yes, friends... I stepped in it... My nostrils filled with thee oh so mighty fragrant odor of human shit. (Unlike dog shit, and far from cat shit, human shit hits the nose like no other.) And when Fuck Face opens the door i say:

"What the fuck! There is human shit in your doorway!"

Fuck Face replies, "That's just dog shit."

"So you just left a pile of shit in front of the door?"

"I didn't put it there." says Fuck Face.

Fuck you Fuck face...

So I bring the Prosecco in--without wiping my feet. They don't have a check. Fuck Face says he can't have a check until three. We close at 2:30, so against Fuck Face's wishes

I load the wine back into the van begin a hopeless journey back to the warehouse...