It's a Small World After All

I know I semi-promised to not rant anymore, but damn it, quit your idiotic drunken driving. I have to admit, as I walked home from a fun Fourth of July party, making my way from the end of Broadway to Pine Street and down, I was astonished at how empty the roads were of cars. For once, there were no hooting frat boys hanging out of RAV4s, no lurching Mercedes driven by guys in cowboy hats (more about that later)--it was kind of eerie. Then I found out that only a couple of hours earlier three pedestrians had been injured when a car drove into them as they stood on the corner of Pine and Bellevue. Great. Maybe someone can build a catapult with a seat that launches from my front door and deposits me safely at the bar? Obviously a sedan chair is out of the question, seeing as whoever would be supporting it would have to use the sidewalk to travel to and fro.

So back to the Mercedes guy and his silly cowboy hat. He was filming hipsters on Pine and came across Ben Lashes, who LOVES to heckle. Words were exchanged outside the Cha Cha (it had just closed), and then Ben took the guy's hat off his head and put it on his own. A crowd gathered as the guy threatened bodily harm if the hat wasn't returned, at which point Ben removed the hat and threw it toward the street. It landed on a taxi and was carried a bit further down Pine before blowing off onto the ground, where it was immediately run over by a bus. Hilarity!

So a national touring band who shall remain nameless played a venue recently and I was invited to join them on the bus before the show. Once inside, one of the two singers asked my companion about "that girl" he'd brought back to his hotel last time he was in town. Me being the person who dies a thousand deaths for the people who should but don't, I started to hyperventilate. At the time involving "that girl" and the hotel, the girl was the recent ex of my companion, who has since found out said ex also slept with another one of her (my companion's) exes (a more significant one), and the two have ceased communication. Because he knows nothing of this, the singer requests that my companion call "that girl" and ask her to come to the show. Frantically trying to figure out how to unlock it, I practically shredded the bus' door off as I heard the singer on a cell phone asking "that girl" to come to the show! Oh, but it gets worse. The other singer asked my companion about the well-being of the more significant ex, unaware that she (my companion) and I knew the singer had also slept with that very same ex, before the ex part. Mercifully, at that moment the door finally opened and I flew out, somehow managing to walk back into the club. I can't hide emotion, so a friend asked what was wrong. Once I stopped silently freaking out I told him the story, and he replied, "Dude, someone needs to tell [those singers] that Seattle is not the East Coast." Which would have been funnier had my friend not currently been dating the recent ex of his bandmate.

More nameless gossip: Recently, former members of a few legendary rock bands covertly formed a new band here in Seattle before heading to L.A. to record.

kathleen@thestranger.com