Last Saturday we spent two and half hours in the Verizon store. We’d gone in to see if we could upgrade TJ’s phone, which for a year had been saved only by the Otterbox protecting it. It was a beautiful day, over 50 degrees by 10 am and we’d plans to drive to the coast. We thought our questions were simple, we thought we knew what we wanted, but when we left, not only did TJ have a new iPhone 6 Plus, but I also had a new phone, trading my iPhone 4s for an iPhone 6 and we’d signed up for Xfinity’s at-home wifi. Sadly, at that point the beach was out. It was almost one in the afternoon and the coast was two hours away. Oh well. But the next day when we were sitting on the couch, TJ asked if I wanted to go on an adventure. I know my boyfriend. I assumed this meant we’d go geocaching. I was not in the mood for crawling into bushes or looking sketchy on busy street corners. I told him, no, I did not want to go on an adventure. He begged. He said it would be fun. As usual, I caved.
When he drove me toward the industrial part of southeast Portland, I was, I admit, intrigued. He’d found a warehouse that had been abandoned and then caught on fire and gutted leaving only the walls. The walls had become canvases to the artwork of taggers and gang members. We couldn’t get inside, there was a chain link fence AND a cop by the only entrance, but we still got some awesome shots with our nifty new phones. It was a sketchy part of town. More than once, I got away from TJ only to scurry back when I encountered someone who looked questionable, but it was fun.