Sometime in 2002
The cafeteria at Bellevue Community College
March 17, 2006
245 bus to Crossroads
Sitting across from me is a man in his late thirties with a round, boyish face, short, thin brown hair, and a pathetic attempt at a beard. Glasses frames purchased perhaps in 1987 and a Microsoft lanyard around his neck, his slacks navy blue and his shoes nondescript work boots. Yet his shirt is teal-green crushed velvet with shiny mother-of-pearl buttons, and his jacket of patchwork leather.
He’s reading a hardcover British edition of Harry Potter 7, and has headphones in his ears.
What in God’s name might he be listening to?
May 16, 2008
Downtown Bellevue transit center
Two teenage skaters are goofing off near me as I wait for the last bus out of the Eastside. They can’t be much more than fourteen, and are quite clearly drunk.
One of them saunters over to me and asks me for a cigarette.
“You’re too young to smoke cigarettes.” I like the irony of pointing this out while he’s drunk, even though, to my way of thinking, it’s completely true.
He wavers, unbalanced. Looks more closely. “You a cop?”
Deadpan, I answer, “No.”
He nods judiciously.
“Then we’re okay.”