4
street roots
July 6, 2012
Designated
drivers
A n evening on the beat o f Portland's
pick-up crew for over-imbibers
BY ALEX ZIELINSKI
overstuffed backpack outside of a shuttered
food cart. The pair recognizes him by
t’s 9 p.m. on a gray, drizzly June
name, noting that he’s a regular visitor.
evening and a pair of navy blue.-clad
How often? They’re not sure. “It’s kind of
EMTs are searching the streets of
like eating a hamburger,” Monagle says.
Northwest Portland for the hopelessly
“You know you eat them a lot, but you don’t
inebriated. Paul Monagle and Ashley Nikoo, remember how often.”
both veterans in this mission, slow down as
Pulling over, the pair swiftly hops out of
they pass darkened alleyways and busy
the vehicle and gently carries the older,
corners in their white van, peering through
bearded man to the back of the van before
groups of Friday night revelers for the
nestling his pack behind his back. He softly
unseen, the stepped-over. Cruising down
mumbles, tightening his long black coat
West Burnside, Nikoo’s phone rings,
around his thin body, before settling into
breaking the windshield-wiper-backed
the fetal position and quickly dozing off. It
tranquility of the ride. “Fifth and Oak,” says seems like an old routine. Drawing minimal
Nikoo. “We’ve got a pick-up.”
attention — one of CHIERS’ top goals — the
Thus begins the pair’s evening shift as a
van quietly continues on into the night.
shuttle van to sobriety. Nikoo and Monagle
While CHIERS has a small fleet of white
work for Central City Concern’s Hooper
vans, it only has one out on patrol at a
Inebriate Emergency Response Service, or
time, a system the program aims to change.
CHIERS, a system that picks up intoxicated
Monagle and Nikoo’s vehicle is one of “the
locals and brings them in to the program’s
newer ones,” fully equipped with
22-year-old Sobering Station on East
emergency medical supplies, a jump seat
Burnside. Each evening, a duo of CHIERS
behind the driver’s seat for observing
employees roam the city — either in
medical students (or curious reporters) and
response to a call or on patrol — picking up
the police scanner computer. The second
an average of eight
half of the van is
people a night. But
separated from the
they’re not alone.
front by thick black
The Portland Police
bars, and holds a
Bureau also
much simpler set-up:
contributes to the
The man softly mumbles^
hard, waterproof
Sobering Station,
flooring and siding
tighte ning his long black
dropping off
and a small drain
coat around his th in body
inebriated people
used to dispose of
before
settling
in
to
the
fetal
without a record-
unwelcome fluids.
marring write-up
position and giilcW y dozing
That’s it.
throughout the day.
Most of the people
oil« It seems lik e an old
In total, the two
that call in to
routine«
»raw
ing
m
in
im
a
l
teams bring in
CHIERS are business
attention one ol CHI1B115
nearly 9,000 people
owners, hospital staff
a year.
top goals — the van quietly
or security workers,
However, these
like PPI. But
continues on Into the night«
numbers could soon
occasionally,
change. Starting July
concerned passersby
1, CHIERS will lose
dial in. “We really
its morning and
depend on the
early afternoon shift
public’s help,” says
— which kicks off at
Monagle, as he
7 a.m. — due to city budget cuts. This is a
steers the van back to the Sobering
tentative fix. The city council voted to
Station. “It’s similar to ‘If a tree falls in a
reevaluate the new schedule in six months,
forest....’ If someone is passed out drunk
thanks to some last-minute pull by
on the street and no one reports them, will
Commissioner Amanda Fritz. But it could
we be able to help them? Probably not.”
make a significant change in the way
As the van backs into the headquarters’
CHIERS runs. Fortunately, the Sobering
parking lot, Sobering Station employees
Station will remain open during these
rush out to help. They are prepared for
hours, accepting drop offs from the police.
anything: A belligerent, violent admittee or,
But CHIERS’ goal is to bring in the
like this particular pick-up, a passed-out
majority of the pick-ups, driving taxpayer
guest. Earlier in the evening, the station
dollars away from the police-dependant
admitted a loud, confused woman,
service.
struggling with the attendees, believing she
“It certainly is the least harmful thing we was going to jail. After the staff removed
could do,” says CHIERS manager Sarah
her valuable items — in an effort to keep
Goforth. “We have the police supporting us
visitors safe along with their possessions —
to stay running as often as possible and the
she begrudgingly stumbled into the
public relies on us. Realistically, I don’t
woman’s sobering room, spitting
know what kind of change we’ll see. But we
obscenities. But in this instance, Monagle
have the community’s support.”
simply sets the older man into a wheelchair
One of the top sources that frequents
and pushes him inside.
CHIERS’ response line, Portland Patrol Inc.
The Sobering Station is surprisingly
(PPI), called in tonight’s downtown pick-up.
peaceful. The lights are dimmed to a
As Monagle scans Fifth Avenue from the
comforting glow and a soft snoring from
driver’s seat, Nikoo looks up from the
recovering admittees creates an almost
passenger seat’s police scanner monitor.
dreamlike atmosphere. Attendants — both
“There he is,” she says, pointing at a
EMTs and recovered addicts — speak
crumpled figure spooning a large,
quietly to one another, flipping through old
S T A F F W R IT E R
I
P H O T O B Y K R IS T IN A W R IG H T
newspapers and sipping tea, seeming
equally relaxed by their work environment.
The small station houses three group
rooms — one for women, two for men —
sparsely furnished with a few tables on the
cement floor. The station also has four
single cells for visitors who are at risk of
hurting themselves or others. Legally, the
patrons can stay up to 48 hours, but usually
they leave between four or eight —
whenever their blood alcohol level is back
to a sober state.
“Can I leave yet?” asks a tired-looking
man in his 50s, peering through the bars
separating his group room and the
attendant’s desk. “I’m cold. And I think I’m
all better now.”
The attendant on call sighs. “You know
you’ve only been here a couple hours, man.
I have the heater on, go on and stand by it.
Don’t you know it’s raining out?” In
response, the man starts reciting his
Miranda Rights in a slurred stream, despite
the attendant’s interruption that “we’re not
the police.”
“Just relax for a little bit more,” the
attendant urges. The man goes back to the
table, resting his head on his palm.
In every interaction with an intoxicated
visitor, the on-call attendants stay cool-
headed and calm, despite the inevitable
instability of the situation. “We may come
off as cold to some, or emotionless,” says
Monagle. “But we see a lot of drama. We’ve
learned it’s the best way to counter that
energy.”
After wheeling the older man into a
group room, an attendant offers him a cup
of minestrone soup and crackers, a supply
always on hand. The man ignores the offer
and curls up in a familiar corner
underneath a heater.
CHIERS doesn’t just let these return
patrons go unnoticed. When they start
recognizing faces, staff steps in to offer
assistance and recommend city-funded
detox help. “I think a lot of people see this
as hitting bottom,” says CHIERS manager
Goforth. “They think, ‘I am here sleeping
in a cement room with a bunch of
alcoholics and this is my life,’ and they are
ready to turn it around. So we’re here to
help.”
For some, it’s a lifesaver. For others, it’s
a quick fix. “We see success stories, but we
also see cycles of recovered alcoholics
coming back,” says Amanda Guevara, the
station’s night manager. “It’s tough.”
Monagle and Nikoo head back to the van
to watch the scanner for calls. It’s a slow
night. Both medical students, the pair have
a hard time explaining why they spend
their time at CHIERS as opposed to an
emergency room or other EMT service.
“There’s a point in EMT work where all of
your calls involve alcohol. I thought, why
not focus on the main source? These are
people who need real help, not just a drunk
frat boy on a Saturday night,” say Monagle.
Nikoo sips a Starbucks coffee while
staring at the scanner, eyes unmoving.
Calls come in for burglaries, fires. No dice.
Nikoo usually works nights, but knows the
summer cutbacks could impact her work.
‘Cutting the morning shift will definitely be
an experiment,” she says. “It probably
won’t make much of a difference, since we
pick up so many more people at night, but
who knows.”
Inside, an attendant yawns, filling out
paperwork for the recent intake. In the far
back room, a soft plop followed by a moan
breaks the calm ambience. Without a
second thought, the attendant pulls a mop
and bucket from a storage closet and heads
to the back room, yelling out “You OK
buddy? as she opens the door. Once
irritated by being stuck in the holding
room, the man is now humbled with
embarrassment and gratitude as these calm
strangers care for his well-being, rather
than arcing around his hunched figure on
the sidewalk. “Water, please,” he gasps.
I m so sorry, I’m so sorry. Thank you. So
much.”