Thursday, January 29, 2009

No. 11 & 12


Beer: No. 11, Erdinger Weissbrau, No. 12, Craftsman I.P.A.
Date: January 24th, 2009
Place: No. 11, Red Lion Tavern, No. 12 El Prado, Los Angeles, California



That I was having beers with Dustin in Los Angeles and not in Portland was and still is mind boggling to me. But it happened and I can only be thankful that it did.

Of the 2,869 hours I worked at McKinney, 85 of them were spent playing foosball. Those might have been the most productive hours I had. If we fail to count the Travelocity Troll or The Secretary of Steak campaigns which I slaved over that died cold, violent deaths on magnetic walls.

I’d say the most productive, because through all the sh!t talk, all the bank shots, all the ‘it’s too loud so we are replacing your plastic ball with a cork ball’, through all the off season games at Tylers’s Taproom, I really got to know a group of five guys. One of which was Dustin.

He is a quiet guy. Doesn’t say a lot if he doesn’t know you. Which might lead you to assume that he’s planning your demise. (At least, in advertising, anyone who doesn’t talk much is suspect. If we worked at an accounting firm I’d think differently). But much like an onion, as the layers go deeper, you realize there is a truly caring, genuinely witty, fairly selfless onion in the middle. I never really got the onion analogy cause it still ends with onion.

I think Dustin is the only guy I know who doesn’t ascribe to any set religious belief who regularly volunteers to make other’s lives better. And you know that comes straight from the heart and not from a Gospel.

After his roommate was laid off from McKinney, Dustin moved in and slept on my couch. For something like four months. He and his dog Dewey. Dustin was trying to figure out his next steps and what life held for him and where to next and can I do something somewhere for someone that will matter. One day he just packed up his Jeep and his dog, and drove to Oregon. That was a very lonely day, it seemed.

Portland didn’t work out for Dustin. Both to his surprise and mine and to anyone who finds out Dustin isn’t in Oregon but instead in LA.

“Wait, you are going to hang out in LA with Dustin? Dustin? In…LA?”

I can state for the record that yes, Dustin…in LA, is doing fine.

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