Hermiston

Hermiston has at least two Starbucks. That blows my mind. I could see them having just the one pseudo-Starbucks in the Safeway, that would be okay. But no, they have a freestanding building on Hwy 395 (their main street) that is a dedicated Starbucks. I know that seems like a banal thing to talk about, but it's really upsetting to me. I guess I want Hermiston to forever be Conway Twitty instead of Billy Ray Cyrus, or whatever the country kids are listening to these days. Seeing a gigantic Chevy pickup pulling into the drive-thru of a Starbucks in Hermiston is--to me, anyway--like seeing Santa Claus in a porn movie. Granted, it's a soft-core porn movie like you'd see on Pay-Per-View at the Astoria Red Lion, but it's still porn. And Santa's in it.
I guess that's me being a typical Portlander, though. I want Eastern Oregon to remain this idyllic haven of rural bliss and the mere mention of development or progress makes me not only cringe but feel somehow offended as well. I guess that if I REALLY didn't want Hermiston to get a Home Depot then maybe I could stop shopping at the ones in Portland in protest. But a Wal-Mart distribution center? That's just too much.
After meeting with the mayor of Boardman I called Mayor Bob Severson and he agreed to meet me at the MacDonalds there in Hermiston. It's about a 35 minute drive no matter which route you take, so I decided to take the least scenic route via the Umatilla Chemical Depot, where they're burning up all that nerve gas from the cold war. I promised myself I wouldn't curse on this blog, but that place figuratively scares the shit out of me. Five years ago I wouldn't have thought twice about it, but now that I'm old and have a kid, I can't even feel good about eating the eggs from my own chickens without getting a lead test on the soil on which the coop is built over. I'm getting so paranoid these days that I'm thinking about making my own underarm deoderant because of the weird aluminum additives found in my Speed Stick.

So it's pretty dumbfounding how quickly all my fears melted away once I drove past the depot and into Hermiston proper. It's a real town: A real, working, honest town complete with a ridiculously authentic downtown drugstore and everything. Granted, the only thing that was open downtown tonight was the Cozy Tavern (chicken gizzards w/ fries: $7), but I imagine that the Kickin' Cowgirls Western Store does a fair share of business during normal weekdays. Twently bucks says that the drugstore has a soda fountain.
Mayor Severson gave me a Hermiston pin. I don't know if every town has these pins (Hermiston is only the third pin I've been given), but if they do then I'm doing this 242-city trip again next year. I'm not sure if I can describe to the five readers of this blog how much it means to me to receive a city pin, but if you know me then it would be on par with being asked to play the glockenspiel during halftime at the Oregon-Oregon State Civil War game. I don't know how to play the glockenspiel, and I don't even know which team to cheer for. I guess what I'm saying is that if you're going to pull out the city pin, don't be surprised if I get flustered and therefore overly chatty and nervous. To put it into terms that I can understand, a Mayor giving me a city pin is like someone saying "Run home, Charlie! And don't stop until you get there!" Except instead of the promise of touring a chocolate factory I have a pin that says "Yes, you've been there, the pin proves it, and the Mayor says you're pretty okay." So to all the Mayors I meet in the future: My apologies. I'm not trying to be rude and I'm not crazy. It's just that I'm more of a Veruca Salt than a Charlie. Hermiston is a river of chocolate and I can't help but jump into it, even if everything downtown except the Cozy Tavern is closed on Sundays.
Also there's a big watermelon painted on the water tower.
32 down, 210 to go.