October 14, 2010
On the 18 Express bus
Ballard, Seattle, Washington
“I’m going to get a tattoo, and a real piercing. I’m going to do everything you can’t do when you’re not 18,” she said.
“I’m going to tell my dad he has a grandson.”
November, 2007
Bus stop at 3rd & Pine
Downtown Seattle, Washington
A man approaches me: late 30s, greasy dark hair, red scabbed nose, twitchy. He holds a clipboard full of tattered papers.
“Hey, we’re just taking a survey. How many people do you live with?”
“Just me,” I answer.
He nods, still twitching, “Oh, okay, okay. Do you make at least $3000 a month?”
I chuckle. “No, I wish I did.”
He doesn’t smile. “Okay, um, do you believe marriage should only be between a man and a woman?”
“No…” Where is this going?
He nods hurriedly, “Okay, good, you’re like us.”
Not very like, I hope.
He continues, sounding nervous, “We’re trying to do some fundraising, just a nickel or dime would help if you have it.” He hands me a slip of paper with printed writing, and I read the first line: IN CHINA AND KOREA, THEY EAT DOGS AND CATS!
“What are you raising money for, exactly?”
He’s earnest as he says, “We’re trying to save dogs and cats! Because in China and Korea they eat dogs and cats, and we’re trying to stop it.”
I notice there’s a URL on the slip, and tell him I’ll check out the website.
“Okay,” he says uncertainly. “We’re just trying to save dogs and cats, y’know?”
My bus pulls up. “That’s very admirable.”
As I step onto the bus, he calls after me.
“Also we’re trying to make alcohol illegal, because it’s really bad for you.”
January 21, 2010
The Newsstand at Third & Pike
Downtown Seattle, Washington
I’m hungry by the time I get downtown after my fiddle lesson, so I get off the bus at Third and Pike and visit the little newsstand on the corner. They’ve got popcorn, coffee, and pretzels now, but I only have one hand free. While he scoops up my popcorn, he asks what’s in the case.
“It’s a violin.” Some people get confused if you call it a fiddle, I’ve noticed.
“Hey, that’s cool! Have you seen that ad with the guy playing really really fast?”
We chat briefly about the difference between violins and fiddles, and how Charlie Daniels is one of the best fiddle players ever.
“Not better than Robot Devil on Futurama, though,” he says. “He’s the best fiddle player ever!”
I take the popcorn, give him my dollar, and say, “Well, there’s some say the devil’s the best fiddle player there is, but my money’s on Charlie Daniels.”
He chuckles as I walk away.
January 2, 2010
Goodwill
Ballard, Seattle, Washington
Waiting in line to buy picture frames and old LPs, chatting with Anabelle and Robbie, when a woman in the next line interrupts us.
“I just had to say that you look so cute, with your little jacket and your hat. It’s adorable,” she says. I am wearing my leather jacket and a grey cabbie hat.
“Why, thank you,” I respond.
“Now that I’m an old lady, I just tell people whatever comes to mind,” she continues. Her hair is thin and gray, piled loosely on top of her head; her glasses Coke-bottle; she wears some sort of muumuu and leans on her cart.
“I hope it doesn’t ruin your day that some old lady thinks you look cute.”
February 17, 2007
Bus stop at 15th & Campus Parkway
University District, Seattle, Washington
Thin, scrappy-looking black man, rumpled clothes. He rants about all the things that are wrong in the world: the city, the police, the buses, the ex-wife.
“I make up for it, though…I go to the beach and watch the sun set on the ocean.”
December 16, 2009
15 bus to downtown
Ballard, Washington
He has two backpacks on the seat next to him, a sleepy expression, an unkempt mustache, and an honest-to-God rat tail. As I settle into my seat, he pulls a full sized bottle of some clear liquor, bare of paper bag, from inside his coat. Ducking his head slightly, he surreptitiously takes a swig.
A pasty, bulbous white man with thin gray hair and matching tuque and flannel shirt gives him a big thumbs up. Rat tail looks a bit sheepish as Pasty grins at him.
“Hey,” Pasty mouths with great exaggeration, “It’s Christmas!”
October 2, 2009
The office
Seattle, Washington
“And what is your name, dear?” the pleasant, elderly British woman I was helping over the phone asked, as many do.
“Sarah,” I supplied.
“Oh, really?” she said, sounded vaguely surprised. “How do you spell that?”
“S-A-R-A-H,” I said, without thinking. It occurred to me mid-spell what an odd question that was. Had she thought I said a different name?
But, “That’s unusual,” she returned, to my confusion. “What nationality?”
“It’s ah, Hebrew in origin.” No one had ever asked me that before. They either already know or don’t think to care, since it’s so common.
“Well, it’s lovely,” she said warmly. “Thank you, Sarah.”
“You’re…welcome?”
Thanksgiving weekend, 2008
A Firefly-themed coffee shop
Greenwood, Seattle, Washington
It is my right as an older sister to tease my brother about girls, should he be so unfortunate to mention one he fancies.
“Would you hit that, Aaron?”
“I am not an assailant.”
Late July, 2009
The bus stop at Queen Anne & Mercer
Seattle, Washington
Sitting on a bench waiting for the bus, canvas tote bag in her lap, knees and feet together, she is a petite, feminine sort of woman. Tidy sandals, knee-length denim pencil skirt, crocheted, cream-colored sweater, she buttons it with dainty fingers, her movements bird-like quick. Hair in a casual bob, glasses fashionable but understated, delicate ivory skin; and there, in the center of her face, quite the largest nose I have ever seen on a woman.
