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Tuesday, January 18, 2005

MLK Day: A Day ON, Not a Day OFF!

Here's a little MLK story for y'all.

MLK Day, 2001, First Avenue, Seattle, WA, U.S.A.

Bar hopping with Trustfund Boy and Frat Boy- pure alkies. Tryin' to keep up. No friggin way. At least I was warm, though. My new North Face beannie kept the cold away, and this new to Seattle Kauai Boy had suffered quite a bit before figuring out that a bald head exposed to 40 mph 40 degree Farenheit wind = pain- no matter how warm the torso is.

2:15 A.M.: Trustfrund and Fratboy are negoitiating a er… favor… from a nasty fat er… favor giver… near Fratboy's apartment... I wander off. I was drunk enough to uh, favor her, an hour ago... now I'm too drunk for that... Homeless nasty lady walks up to me:

"You got any money, honey?" She called me honey. It made me feel special.

"I dunno sweetheart. Lemme check."

I reach into the wallet and find I have 40 bucks. It needs to last me a week, which isn't really that hard since I'm living off Trustfund's generosity... free rent, big breakfast, big dinner, and all I can drink... but still, walking the streets looking for a job requires Starbucks, and that's just one Double Vanilla Latte a day (with tip.) Then I see notice homeless ladies hat. It says:

MLK Day: A Day ON! Not a day off!

And I have a great moment. That hat is the money. It is the best hat ever in the world. Ever. (Did I say ever?)

"I'm not going to give you any money, sweetheart. But I'll make you a deal. I'll give you my beannie and $40 bucks for that hat."

"Okay, honey!"

Fratboy has wandered over. Through the murk of my drunken stupor a glimmer of suspicion: She said yes too fast. Maybe this isn't that great a deal? I ask Fratboy to play financial advisor because I'm too drunk.

Fratboy's considered response.... "GOOD DEAL!"

Bastard. I spent the rest of the night showing off the hat to every woman I could. And sharing the story. I did not score.


  • At 12:55 PM, Blogger Crazy Diamond said…

    Maybe those women couldn't figure out what the hat meant, either.

    I never got drunk in Seattle, but I did have a man (drunk? crazy? who can tell, in Seattle?) explain to me for approximately ten minutes at a bus stop that the correct pronunciation of "Pinot Noir" was PEE-no NOR, not PEE-no NWAHR and so many people were idiots who didn't know the correct pronunciation.

    I was new to the city and just stared at him blankly during his monologue. I finally realized it was going to be a never-ending monologue and was about to say "No hablo ingles, Senor" when his bus showed up.

    That was a bus stop near a restaurant called "The Hardened Artery". I ate there once for lunch. Excellent burgers.

  • At 1:56 PM, Blogger Harkonnendog said…

    Those characters were part of the reason I loved living in Seattle. I always used to sit in the back of the buses because there were so many freaky people back there.

    Btw... just so you know I was NOT that drunk dude at the bust stop. Not that I remember every time I was drunk at the bus stops... I just can't see myself getting drunk enough to have a conversation about wine. lol

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