Dear People Who Drive Up and Down 82nd Looking for a "Good Time"
 Just because I walk on 82nd by myself with my cell phone in my hand does not mean I'm a prostitute, people. Geeze. Go honk your horn at someone else.

I live on 82nd street... again. The first time was excusable because my college was practically on 82nd and so the apartment I rented with friends was of course in the same place. But this time I have absolutely no excuse. I'm exactly the opposite of ignorant.

I had all of Portland to choose from and yet here I am, in an apartment less than a block away from the street. I didn't really think about the fact that I'd be living so close to Portland's notorious prostitute stroll. That is, not until today when I decided to walk ten minutes down 82nd to Walgreens to pick up my photos.

It felt weird. It was like the whole human population had been devoured by these inanimate things called cars. There were hundreds of them. Okay, that's an overstatement, but 82nd is a really busy street and there were a ton of cars. The point is, no one was on the streets. No one was walking around. The whole atmosphere was devoid of conversation and emotion. There was no humanity.

Well, I take that back. I came across one human crossing the street in front of me. She looked anxious, like she was scared to be out in the open without the protection of her car. She kept glancing back at me trying to make sure that I wasn't going to make any sudden moves. She's probably had people try to pick her up too. And no, she was not a prostitute. She was a student. I could tell.

It's an interesting neighborhood I live in. Veeery interesting....