Three Street Scenes
One: I flogged my date like a team of Huskies to get to the Moore by 7 pm so we’d be on time to see Kiki and Herb. (They were very good, very funny, but they didn’t set me on fire. The rest of the crowd, however, was spastic with delight.) Turns out the show didn’t start until 8 pm. My date stormed off in a huff and I ran into these young gentlemen from Bainbridge Island sliding noisily through the street:
They call `em urban skis—shoes nailed to skateboards nailed to lengths of PVC—and invented them for some school project. I asked if they would be willing to build and sell more. They gave me a don’t-be-a-douche-bag look and said: “… you could just make some.â€ť TouchĂ©.
Two: For reasons known only to God, I woke up at four this morning and couldn’t get back to sleep. I took a long walk through the sleepy residential neighborhoods of Capitol Hill and Queen Anne, fantasizing about the heroics I would perform were I to encounter a burglar or an arsonist. In the midst of my delusions of law-enforcement grandeur, I crossed an empty street against the light and got a fucking jaywalking ticket.
Three: I ended my sojourn by walking to work in the rain. I saw a soggy pillow by the side of the road, then a soggy woman in the middle of the road. She pointed at me, then pointed at the pillow and said something like: “That used to be in our apartment. It got stripped. Dr. Doctor doctored your doctor’s doctor. You know that funny doctor? That’s funny because doctor doctor doctor doctor. My stomach got stripped. I need a robot.â€ť