SKATE PRACTICE ON STATUE ON
STEWART STREET
On a Monday at about 3 p.m. in downtown Seattle, we saw you, a skater in a black baseball cap with a pattern of white palm trees on it, try and fail to land a jump on the steps next to the statue of John McGraw, the second governor of Washington State. Then we watched you try a trick that involved riding your skateboard along the back side of the statue’s stone pedestal, on which carved letters credit McGraw’s “energetic and wise” enterprises like “connecting Lake Washington with tide water by a ship canal,” but in spite of your energy, once again, you were not able to connect your feet with your skateboard with the ground. Then we saw you ride south on Fifth Avenue’s sidewalk, and as you rolled into the distance, you did a kickflip. And landed it! Almost! You had to steady yourself by tapping a foot on the sidewalk. And then you disappeared around a corner.
ONLY A FOOL WOULD SAY THAT,
BALLARD EDITION
You, a middle-aged white guy with a Vandyke beard and spectacles, were in Sonic Boom Records in Ballard with a female companion when you said, “Steely Dan makes me want to cut my own throat.” As seduction tactics go, this left something to be desired. Your companion sort of laughed it off but didn’t say anything, maybe because you look like such a stereotypical Steely Dan fan.
PRESSING AGAINST US ON LIGHT RAIL
We saw you when the doors of the Link train opened. This was at the Columbia City Station, and the car was packed with fans heading to a match between the Seahawks and the 49ers. You were short, pretty, and wore a black hijab. There was a bit more space, and we took it. The doors closed, the train began to move, you were behind us. Then we felt something on our back. It was your breasts. They were pressing against us more and more. Fearing that this was not your intention, we stepped away from you as much as we could. That gave you some space. But almost immediately, your breasts returned and pressed against our back. The situation was made even more curious when it felt like you were rubbing your breasts up and down a section of our spine. We tried to think of every possible reason how this might happen unintentionally: The swaying of the train? You being pushed by another person behind you? Your breasts had just been anesthetized? Or were you just a dirty little freak?
PANHANDLING ACROSS THE STREET FROM PACIFIC PLACE
“Open your heart!” you shouted. “A few dollars! Anything will help! It will be better than liquor! Or drugs! It will be better than Seahawks tickets just to watch them lose!” Just then a woman with polka-dot leggings, a pink suitcase on rollers, and a Seahawks scarf walked past, ignoring you.
JUMPING JESTER ON MADISON
On a chilly Wednesday evening at the intersection of Madison and Pike, while everyone was blearily making their way home in the cold and dark, you were skipping gleefully up the hill in a full-on court jester’s outfit—skintight, black-and-white houndstooth-patterned jumpsuit and jingling jester hat. The pedestrians around you were so shocked by this sudden appearance of unbridled glee, they did not know how to react. As you skipped off into the dark, they just stared.
FULLY FED ON LAKE UNION
On a cold and bright Sunday afternoon, you arrived with a companion to the Swedish Cultural Center for a concert of Baltic choral music performed by the all-women Magi Ensemble. Before the show, one of the performers came over to greet you and give you a hug. “Well, we just came from the most fabulous meal,” you told the singer breathlessly. When she asked which restaurant you had eaten at, you laughed and said, “I have no idea.”
EIGHT GOING ON EIGHTY
You were at Seapine Brewing Company in Sodo on Sunday afternoon with one of your parents, who was there to have a late afternoon pint of Citra IPA with some friends. If we had to guess, we’d say you are around 8 years old, but you have the confident demeanor of someone much older and talk like you are an adult. At one point, you got up from the table and walked to the front door, and then turned back to the grown-ups and said simply: “What? I’m just going outside to get some fresh air.” You also have great style, wearing a fitted blue Basquiat sweatshirt and a pair of gray slacks that, upon further inspection, were actually sweatpants made of fleece. At a young age, you already understand that comfort is paramount.
GOOD SHOW AT THE GOODWILL ON DEARBORN
On Sunday afternoon, you—a trio of older ladies in your 70s—were shopping at the Goodwill on Dearborn. If your years on earth have taught you anything, it’s obviously that waiting in line is bullshit. So instead of standing in the interminable, slow-moving line for dressing rooms, you three stripped down to black stockings and sleeveless leotards and, looking not unlike goth Jazzercisers, proceeded to try on outfits in front of a set of full-length mirrors. We know it is wrong to objectify women like this, but, ladies, you should know—your bodies are slamming. 