A Nightmare on Spaulding Street.

I am a walking Pandora’s box. I do not love drama. I avoid it at all costs but it always finds me, even when I buy a one way ticket and move to a different state to escape it. I’ve been a horror fanatic my whole life. I mostly post scary movies reviews. Last month I survived my own real life 48hr horror movie. I am still hella traumatized and probably will be for the rest of my f’n life. Don’t get me wrong, I have been through worse in my lifetime. However, 2016 was not kind to me so everything that happened in June was just really bad timing. The universe done kicked me when I was already down and I can’t seem to shake it. You might not find my story scary but it sure as hell horrified me.

Part 1~ I had just moved to Portland from Las Vegas on June 7th, 2017. Originally I was staying at a hotel but because money was tight, I ended booking a room in a house on Spaulding Street that I found on Airbnb. (I grew up in Chicago on Spaulding st, my house was haunted and I have a lot of bad childhood memories from that block so I already had a bad vibe about it but of course I didn’t listen to my intuition). My new apartment wasn’t going to be ready until the 24th and I was fine with waiting it out. At first it felt like I was on Big Brother and The Real World. There were at least 10 other people also staying in what I refered to as the “bomb shelter’, super small confinement with lots of gossip and millennial drama, I was by far the oldest guest there. But I met a couple of other potheads to hang out with and it felt like camp for adults at first. Besides, it was all I could afford and you get what you pay for so I wasn’t trip’n. Three days in the guy and his wife who were running the Airbnb outta their house ended up throwing me out because I politely sent them a passive aggressive text complaining about a broken fan and a janky ass bunk bed. Lol And also because of an incident I call Weinergate but that’s a whole other story. Oye vey! Needless to say, I was pretty damn frazzled and hysterical as they were teaming up on me yelling at me and filming me with a cell phone for whatever reason while I stood there crying and super confused. I didn’t expect that outcome from my stupid text that I had sent the night before so I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone. By the time the confrontation was over and I was packed up and got my refund, my cell was dead and it was about 10 at night. The house was on a dead end road with an alley and a huge park at the end of the street. My new pothead friend for life (I ditched the other one because he ended up being batshit crazy and I’m 100% sure he’s somewhere dying to find me so he can finally wear my face, haha) ended up having to sneak my phone back into the Michael Meyer’s house to charge it for me so I could get an uber to a Motel I booked right before my phone died. While I was waiting for my friend to bring me back my cell, I saw Mr Meyer’s drive off in his truck shortly after she went inside to charge it. Of course my horror movie filled mind had me convinced that he went looking for me so he could kill me slowly and painfully. So I did what any rational person would do and hid in his neighbors bushes trembling and waiting for him to sneak up from behind and chloroform me. Teehee. It seemed like my friend was taking hours to charge my damn cell and then all of the sudden I see Michael Meyer’s truck coming back from wherever the hell he went. I peaked out from the bushes and saw him get outta his truck and heard him slam his car door but I never heard or saw him go inside because there was a fence blocking my view to his front door. OMG, IS HE NOW SEARCHING FOR ME ON FOOT??!!!? I instantly start panicking and waiting to be murdered any second and just has my heart feels like it’s going to beat out of my chest, a guy steps out on his porch to smoke a cigarette. I pop out from his bushes and tell him super quick in a frightened shakey whisper what was going on and begged him to let me wait in his driveway until my friend came back with my phone. At first I ended up startling the shit outta him because it was so late and dark and I was so frantic. But after we both sorta calmed down, he said I could wait on his porch with him until my uber arrived. Blah, blah, ect, other stuff happened, he ended up being a drunk racist, my friend finally came through with my half charged cell phone, waited with me until my uber arrived and I ended up at a Motel 6 in Gresham vowing to avoid Spaulding Streets for the rest of my life.
Part 2~ I’m in my motel room and it’s early the next morning. I never slept because I was still shook up from the previous night so I stayed up smoking weed, watching TV for the first time in forever, and cried it out all night. At about 8am I heard loud knocking on the door next to my room and a bunch of people singing happy birthday. I peaked out the window and saw 3 or 4 police officers. I open the door slightly and asked if they were there for me since I tried to file a police report the night before. (Don’t judge! The Uber driver convinced me to call 911 because I was THAT rattled and upset. Plus I told him about Weinergate. It was a she said, he said situation so no report was filed). Anyways, a female police officer turns to me and asks me really bitchy and sarcastically if it’s my birthday. I say no and close the door. They continue to knock on that door saying “You’re making us wake up all your neighbors, we’re not leaving until you guys come out!” They continue to do whatever they were trying to accomplish and I decide to shower and get ready because I needed to walk to a local convenient store called the Plaid Pantry to buy nose spray. By the time I leave, the cops are gone and I didn’t think twice about it. I walk into the store and ask the clerk if they have any nose spray. She points me to an aisle in front of the store so I walk over and go to grab up the last one. I hear a man’s voice screaming “Turn around, hands up, on the ground!!!!” I automatically think that something is going down outside since I was staying in a sketchy area so I continued on with my shopping. Then I hear the man yelling the same thing again but this time it sounds like it’s coming from inside the store. I think instantly in my head that the store is being robbed so I turn around to check out what’s going on. Instead, I see a police officer pointing his gun in my face about 6 feet away from me screaming at me to lay down. I automatically freeze up in total horror because I’m terrified of guns and have never had one pointed at me. I put my hands up and start asking with my trembling voice what I did wrong. He screams at me red-faced with rage in his eyes and spit coming from his mouth, saying that I know exactly what I did and to lay down, NOW! Btw, my father is a retired Chicago police officer, I’ve never been in trouble with the law in my entire life, ever. So since I’ve never been in that kind of situation, I just instantly turned into Rain man and just start saying my full name, address, and birthday on repeat like a broken record. He tells me I have a warrant and to get on my knees, the whole time with his gun pointed at me and fingers on the trigger. I kneel and he inches towards me with his gun pointed at my head yelling at me to lay on my stomach. I tell him I’m going through a mastectomy and have a collapsed expander in my chest and that I’m not supposed to lay on it. He gets even closer with his gun and repeats his demand and since I didn’t feel like getting shot in the head that day, I obeyed him. He then handcuffs me and gets back up leaving me dazed and hella confused laying on the floor with my hands cuffed behind me. I then start to wonder if this is all happening because of the Airbnb incident the previous day and that maybe Michael Meyer’s called the cops because I complained to Airbnb and got a full refund. All this is running through my head as I’m laying there looking at this cop completely bewildered and in shock. Then I see a panicked look in his eyes and hear him ask on his radio, “Did her black hoodie have a gold circle on it?” I automatically say to him in my quivering voice, “It’s a Sgt Pepper’s seal, I’m wearing a Beatles hoodie, my drivers license is in my purse but you have me laying on it sir!” I’m not sure how much time passed with me laying on that cold floor but it took 3 or more cops to figure out it was a case of mistaken identity. The officer that almost shot me helps me up and half assed apologized asking me if I understood why he had to do that. I looked at him still shaking and stunned and said, “No, I don’t. May I please finish my shopping now?” I might have been in shock but I was also now getting angry at the excessiveness of it all. He hands me back my gloves that he apparently ripped off my hands (I was so terrified that I don’t even remember him pulling them off me) and they all leave as if nothing happened. Turns out I was mistaken for the wanted drug addict that was staying in that room next to mine from earlier that morning. I eventually asked to see her picture since they were still staking out the Motel 6 after I got back. Me- blonde hair, hazel eyes, pale af, old. Wearing red long John’s with sweatpants with stars on them, black converse, a Beatles hoodie, fingerless gloves and a green hat. I stood out like a sore thumb. Her- long brown hair, big brown eyes, olive colored skin, atleast a decade younger, 40lbs or so skinner, blue jeans and a solid black hoodie. Wow, we’re practically the Olsen twins, no wonder he almost shot me. Also, what the hell did this heroin/meth addict do to warrant that kind of reaction from that cop? She better be the female version of Jeffrey Dahmer because that whole situation was beyond unnecessary, over the top to say the least, and traumatizing as fuck.

Welp, that’s how my first week in Portland went. I’ve already made an appointment with a therapist and I’m seeking out an allergist asap because I’m never buying nose spray again.

The End

 

 

 

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4 thoughts on “A Nightmare on Spaulding Street.

  1. What is with states and doctors trying to murder women? I blame Pumpkinhead Trump. Lmao Seriously though, sorry all of that happened to you.💚 Trauma is a real hardcore thing to try and cope with, huh? Las Vegas and a former surgeon I refer to as Anne the Ripper (because she’s from London and loved butchering me so much that I swear she’s Jack the Ripper’s great granddaughter! Lol) tried to kill me also. I had a botched preventative double mastectomy and have been boobless and disfigured since March of 2016. I was so hopeless and defeated that instead of giving into my suicidal thoughts, I bought a one way ticket to Portland to find a surgeon willing to fix me since no one in Vegas would touch me because they had no empathy or compassion and didn’t want to be liable or pulled into her mess she left me with and then I get to Portland and all that shit happens back to back? W T F universe??!! To say I’m a frazzled wreck is an understatement, I’m pretty sure I massive ptsd by now. SIGH! Btw, he wasn’t a rookie, he was probably in his late 40’s or early 50’s and I’ve done more than just file a complaint. 😉 The whole freaking thing was caught on surveillance, tsk tsk on him.😨😈

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  2. Jesus, it’s like the time I moved to Atlanta and it tried its best to kill me – mine only involved a ruptured appendix with a misdiagnosis from one hospital and a second hospital refusing to remove the damn thing and then a totaled car immediately after I recovered from that crazy so yours is hella more traumatic, hands down. I’d file a complaint against that one officer though, if you’re up for it. That sounds like a rookie mistake (with drama queen reactions) and you should, at the least, get a proper apology. (And he should go through some more training apparently on learning colors?) Sorry your first week sucked; hopefully it’s getting better! 💛

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