For the last year, I've been driving 20 miles across the Columbia River and heading north to Vancouver, WA for work. My last day was last Friday.
The Couv. Vantucky.
The Couv doesn't have the best reputation: it's the red-necked, meth-addicted stepchild of cool, hipster Portland. In reality, it's mostly a bedroom community for people who want to work the system: no income tax in Washington, no sales tax in Oregon. Me, I worked the system the wrong way.
Don't get me wrong, the Couv seems like a perfectly reasonable place to live. It's just a lot of suburban sprawl compared to Portland's dense city center. It probably gets an unnecessarily bad rap, especially when people perpetuate the stereotypes by calling it Vantucky.
Over the last year, I've resisted learning anything about the Couv, including the names of the streets near my office. I have found some decent eating places that I'll miss, like Patrick's Hawaiian, the Golden Tent Mongolian Grill, and the always popular all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet.
Most of all, though, I'll miss my work mates. My job was often insanely crazy; we even invented a new term for those really rough times: a cry-nap. But the crew of people we had was pretty great, often times making my life easier. I don't know if I'll ever go back to the same industry; I'm don't think I'll miss it if I don't. But I will miss the good people I've worked with.
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1 comment:
I always liked how safe I felt, driving on those empty downtown streets.
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