Today I had a doctor's appointment in downtown Portland. I go to the community health center around the block for my infrequent health needs. They are convenient and cheap. Convenient and cheap healthcare tends to attract a rougher crowd than your average late twenties youth pastor so I'm usually treated to some sort of spectacle.
"I have an appointment at 11:30. I don't remember with who. No my address and insurance haven't changed. Yep. Thanks."
After getting all checked in I dropped into a chair in the middle of the waiting room and pulled out my phone. As I was scrolling a man about my age burst into the room. His messy man bun bounced against his leather jacket, and he wore sunglasses that were slightly too big. The thought jumped to mind that maybe he was just a cool sort of doctor. They have doctors and social workers here who specialize in outreach to the African immigrant communities in Portland, perhaps Dr. Manbun SunglassesIndoors was the specialist for hipster millennials like me.
With the confidence of a man who knew exactly what he was doing this guy walked up to the locked door and I heard the "beep, beep, beep, beep" of a code being rapidly entered into the keypad. He pulled the handle. Nothing happened. Again, "beep, beep, beep, beep" with no response. At this point I put down my phone and give the situation my full attention. I'm beginning to suspect this man isn't a doctor. I'm not sure if it was the telltale inability to hold still or stop talking, or the fact that his next tactic was to pound his fist on the door and yell "pizza delivery! Let me in!"
I'm considering writing regularly again. Doctor's idea.
