Last night, as the skyline swallowed the sunset, I set out to do what only the bravest of Oregonians do – search for Wesen. I know what you may be thinking, “Pete, you’re insane. Why would you actively seek a group that might do you grievous bodily harm if their secret is discovered?” First, thanks for considering my well-being. Second, don’t let the actions of a few sully the reputation of an entire group. Ease up there Judgy Judgmentalisterson.
Armed with nothing more than my work and personal cell phones, I set off through the streets of Lake Oswego and tracked several unusual sets of footprints to a vantage point that looked down into the quaint city of Tigard. Where were these tracks heading? There was only one way to find out, so I descended a steep concrete embankment. The footing was often tenuous, but I eventually made my way to the valley below. The footprints turned left and had me heading down a darkening, lush, tree-lined street. With no apparent signs of life ahead of me, I was startled by the shriek that pierced the night’s silence. Onward I sped!
A short distance ahead a small opening appeared on the left. It was a religious institution with markings I’d never seen before. The plaque by the door read John Barleycorns and, as the door opened again, sounds of merriment issued forth. Further investigation was required, so I entered and, as I rounded the corner, I came face to face with a room full of Wesen. Not wanting to alert anyone that I was onto them, I quietly sat down and was offered a menu and a list of handcrafted McMenamins beers made on the premises. An Aztec salad and beer flight later, I would say the trip was well worth the perilous trek.