Just Do It

I'm a concrete jungle girl through and through so sometimes it takes a moment before I make it outside city limits. Beaverton is like, totally almost Portland, just down the highway a hop and a skip and a bag of fun-sized Ranch Doritos away, only with way less homeless crack heads and places to drink Stumptown.

Growing up in Portland, I remember when Nike Town moved into downtown (appropriately) and caused a small rawkus. Suddenly the posse and I had a cold chilling retail store to cause trouble at after school. Even the entrance is ill. You feel like you're walking into a portal and when you come out the other side, there's Mickey J. or Clyde The Glyde ready to greet you with warm towels and hot nuts (shameful). Nike Town has enough television screens, clear overhead walkways and bubble chairs (they did invent those little air pocket thingys and they're not shy to make sure you know) all over the two-story store. Not to mention enough gobs of rare athletic gear, jerseys, limited edition sneaks and autographed balls (stop it Sara) to give little boys lots and lots of hard-ons.

So then, it should come as no surprise that when Nike think tanks chose Beavertron for their global headquarter home, it sure as shit wouldn't be no raggity ass piece of architecture. More like acres and acres of winding and heavily manicured lawns and brick-layed paths, leading up to oversized mixed glass and metal buildings, each named for a historically-outstanding athlete.

Shaniqua had an audition for a long-jump commercial at the Neil Armstrong lot and we had arrived at the HQ early, so we ambled around (like proper tourists) the premises, seeking havoc. What we discovered was where the annual bulti-billion Nike dollars go. The campus is like the biggest, bestest fantasy sports carnival ever. There are courts, sandpits, fields, tracks, rock-climbing walls, pools, hurdles, hoops, 9-holes and privately-plaqued parking spaces reserved for ordinary folk like oh, I don't know, MIA HAMM! Yeah, let's just not park there and say we did. Bet? Bet.

The employees are all perfectly-toned, tanned and athletically androidish, the fam pods that work out there (You go to 24-Hour? Oh that's nice, I treadmill at the NIKE WORLD CAMPUS!) are blonde, waify and wear brightly color coordinated Crocs. True story. Soooo good. And the walls are covered in olympic stats and signed stuff. I didn't see why I couldn't cement my spot in Nike immortality, so I grabbed the blue Bic from my clutch and took one for the crew. See photos below, kay thanks.

All in all, I now know that I want to slowly begin climbing the swoosh's corporate ladder to success, Shannony scored the gig (he has long, lean dancer legs and a perfect edge-up) and while I'm pretty sure I still prefer living in P-Town, it's nice to know "the campus" is there, just a bag of red vines and a super gulp down the 86 East.

No comments: