TRANSFORMING STRANGERS INTO WEDDING GUESTS IN OCCIDENTAL PARK
On a hot Saturday afternoon, we saw you getting married on the bricks of Occidental Park in Pioneer Square. Your wedding was formal—small, not tiny—but having it right there in public invited everyone in. A gold streetcar dinged as it left the station. Your friends and family looked on, but so did locals and tourists passing by. It was like you wanted us to share in your joy. Or maybe you wanted to remind us that joy exists at all when the world can be so full of hate. Or maybe the venue is just cheaper if you let them park your ceremony outside on a public street. "Since the dawn of history," the officiant read, quoting Justice Anthony Kennedy in Obergefell v. Hodges, "marriage has transformed strangers into relatives, binding families and societies together." At 5:44 p.m., with the crowd you chose and the crowd you didn't looking on, she pronounced you husband and wife. You kissed and your friends cheered and the gawking crowd moved along.
BRINGING A BUCKET OF KFC TO THE ZOO LIKE A BOSS
Genius. Forerunner. Extra crispy chicken lover. What do we call you, man who stopped giving a fuck so long ago that Colonel Sanders was still alive and rocking on his Kentucky porch? Whatever your name, we hope you accept this small tribute. We saw you entering the Woodland Park Zoo last Saturday. It was a hot one. Like, Rob Thomas featuring Santana hot. And instead of spending $57 on a bag of kettle corn and a popsicle shaped like a tiger, you brought half of last night's 16-piece bucket meal. A picnic at the zoo? Who knew? And to make for greaseless transport, you wrapped the bucket in a plastic bag. A perfect fix. As you shimmied forward in the ticket line, the chicken swung pendulum-like above your ankle tattoo. For a moment, we were sad. Would the animals in the zoo ever know a freedom such as yours? Would we?
WHAT, YOU DON'T BELIEVE US THAT WE SAW A MAN BRINGING FRIED CHICKEN TO THE ZOO?
Here's the picture. We've cropped his face out because we didn't ask his permission to take this.
"THANKS" FOR THE CHEESE-RELATED PRANK AT HOT MAMA'S
We didn't see you, but we definitely saw the consequences of your presence. Late on a Saturday night, hungry and a little tipsy, we wandered into Hot Mama's and ordered a slice of cheese pizza. When, in a decision we realize was totally unnecessary, we decided to add Parmesan, we gently tipped the shaker over the slice, like a normal person, and watched its entire contents spill out. You, whoever you are, had clearly loosened the lid—perhaps in a lapse of judgment or perhaps, we suspect, intentionally, so that someone like us would wander in, dump the whole thing on our slice, and prompt the drunk folks next to us to laugh and laugh.
MAN AT LIGHT RAIL STATION HAS GOOD TASTE (AND APPARENTLY LOTS OF FREE TIME)
We saw you—a severe-looking 30ish man—board the light rail at University Street Station on a Monday evening and start reading David Foster Wallace's 1996 dystopian novel Infinite Jest, occasionally cracking a wry smile as you did so. You had luggage with you, so we assume you were going to Sea-Tac Airport. Bon voyage, litterateur!
MAN AT THE GYM CATCHES UP ON HIS READING
We saw you—a young, muscular man in your 20s—doing sit-ups at the 24 Hour Fitness on Yale Avenue at 12:40 a.m. on Friday while holding a cell phone in your right hand. We get it: Twitter is addictive. More power to you, sir.