FACE-PLANT ON BROADWAY

You were in the crosswalk on Broadway and Pine, partway across the street, when you saw the woman on the sidewalk ahead trip and fall on her face. It was Tuesday afternoon. She was embarrassed, collected her things, climbed to a standing position, and looked around nervously. She was bleeding from the knee and her brown pants were ripped all the way across the cut. It looked like it might need stitches, and she started to limp a little when you reached her and said, "I saw that coming! I was ready to throw my body on top of yours." Then you laughed, heh-heh-heh. You weren't able to see a bleeding person in pain in front of you. All you saw was a woman you could lie on top of.

FRENCH FRIES IN BALLARD

You, a young dude in your 20s, were drinking a beer and eating a burger and fries at the bar in Reuben's Brews in Ballard. It was balls-to-the-wall crowded with bros in there—stressful, really. A harried mother sat her 1-year-old on the bar next to you as she ordered beers. The child, a young opportunist, made a move toward your french fries. Instead of ignoring or being a dick to the little girl, you offered a fry, which she gladly accepted. As you fed her a few more, you gave the 1-year-old a bit of advice: "Seriously, the fries from the truck parked out front are excellent."

SHOULDER PADS AT SHOWBOX SODO

You were at the Primal Scream/Cult show at Showbox Sodo on Saturday night, wearing football shoulder pads and strangely patterned pajama bottoms or sweatpants. Your face bore red, white, and blue makeup, perhaps in solidarity with France the night after the horrible terrorist attacks. You gushed about Primal Scream, calling it a "bucket-list show," and raved about the set list, which included many of your favorite songs. Your football-raver gear made little sense at a rock show featuring two UK groups who've been slogging it out since the mid '80s, but what does make sense after Paris?

SPITTING AT CHOP SUEY

You were a guy in a winter hat and coat, huddled with a group of friends outside Chop Suey during a Sunday night show, smoking. It was pouring. A woman in her 20s walked out of the venue in a peacoat and dress. She was alone. As she passed by your little group, you spit at her, just barely missing her shoe. You said nothing. She didn't know you. Your friends just looked away. What the fuck?

DOWNTOWN NORTH FACE DEALER

You were boarding the number 43 bus on a Tuesday afternoon downtown. As you walked past us, you leaned in and whispered, "I got discount North Face goods," directly into our ear hole, the scent of smoke heavy on your breath. Let's just say you were not an official North Face vendor. While we admire your entrepreneurial spirit, your sales pitch could use some work.

U-DISTRICT DUDE STYLE, DECONSTRUCTED

The sensitive Northwest bearded dude style has been evolving for quite some time, but a Thursday afternoon trip to Slate Coffee Roasters in the University District raised a few pressing questions. Why must all knit caps now be folded over more than halfway and worn far back on the head like a fabric condom? When exactly did the J. Crew barn jacket make a comeback? How often do you trim those tidy little beards? Do you guys peg your jeans and khakis high above your ankles specifically to show off the expensive leather work boots that you wear while not performing hard labor? We considered asking two of you, sporting similar jackets, pants, and boots as if it were a uniform, but we were obviously invisible to you as you cut in front of us in line to order a "deconstructed espresso and milk."

BIKINI BABE BARISTA IN BELFAIR

We saw your independent-looking coffee stand in Belfair, a little town on the tip on Hood Canal that appears to have been sucked dry by corporate chains. We needed caffeine, so we pulled up to your stand, hoping to leave some of our cash in the hands of a Belfair resident but not paying much attention to the stand's name: Espresso Gone Wild. Oh... You made us our coffee while wearing a black bikini on a very cold morning, and you didn't seem at all thrilled by life at Espresso Gone Wild. No rule saying you have to be thrilled at work. But when your friend pulled up to the other side of the drive-through, not for coffee but just to chat about refurbishing your broken motorbike, you radiated a sudden burst of deep happiness. Here's hoping your broken bike gets fixed soon and that you have a truly wild time riding it.

SMELLING A RAT

On a wet Friday night on Capitol Hill, you, laughing while walking with your friend, stepped in what you probably thought was a bunch of wet newspaper on the sidewalk. That's when you noticed that the mush under your boot had a tail. "A RAT! I STEPPED IN A DEAD RAT," you said. "WHY DID THAT HAPPEN? WHY IS THAT RAT THERE?" You dragged your boot into puddles to try to scrape off the guts, while whatever was left of the rat remained on the sidewalk, waiting for its next victim.