Scared in Seattle, Part 2

Tony and I left the bar we were at soon after his wigger friends, but not soon enough. He was beyond half-in-the-bag. He was all the way in the bag and the bag was stapled over his head. I was beginning to get really scared.

We had made plans to go to the Mariners game the next day, and before we had left the bar Tony secured me a discount ticket in the bleachers from a friend. "You'll have to give me a ride, though, in the morning, to this brunch place because I'm supposed to meet some friends. I'd invite you, but I don't think you can afford it. Anyway, then you can do your own thing until game time and meet up with us later." It had sounded like a plan, but now here I was in an unfamiliar city, in the middle of the night, driving on one-way streets, stealing a cellphone from Tony's drunk hand to talk to drunk Nick to get directions to a place I didn't know, that I didn't want to go to, and all the while Tony is in the passenger seat yelling gibberish and trying to climb out the window. When we finally reached Nick's girlfriend's neighborhood, I parked on the street a few blocks away, to make Tony walk, as punishment. I didn't like him very much at that point. That was a mistake, because he ended up falling in a bush and singing at the top of his lungs, waking several random neighbors. Nick and Friend of Nick intercepted him. "You deal with it," I said, shoving Tony's phone into Nick's hand.

I was sour. I was not a very good party guest. Then again, it wasn't really a party. It was the two thug kids from before, and their two pretty (and pretty young) girlfriends, Tony and I. "Cool lunchbox!" Nick's girlfriend said.
"Thanks." I tried my best to seem cordial.
"You want a beer?"
"Not really. Do you have water?"
"Um, tap water."
I sighed. "Gross, I'll take a beer."

Tony stumbled inside, laughing and shouting at walls, cabinets, people, and furniture. "You fucking guys! AAAAHHHHH!!!!" It made no sense. I excused myself to the bathroom. I stared at my reflection. "What the hell have you gotten yourself into now?"

When I came out, Tony was on the phone. "No, it's just north of Queen Anne. Yeah, the one with all the brick duplexes."
"What's going on?" I asked.
"Calling up a delivery," someone said.
"Oh."
"They're on they're way," Tony said, snapping the phone closed.
Figuring they meant pizza, I busied myself looking at the art on the walls and the books on the bookshelf.

Twenty minutes later there was a knock at the door.
"Sweet! 'Bout time!" Nick shouted.
Two huge, tattooed guys walked in, with a pit bull in tow. They did not look like pizza delivery men. After the dispensary hellos, they threw three bags of white stuff on the table.
"It's what we agreed on?"
"Yeah, here you go," Nick said, handing them a wad of cash.
You would have thought everyone in the room was drowning and the bags contained oxygen, that is how fast they all fell onto it. Compact mirrors flew out of pockets, razor blades seemed to materialize from thin air, and lines were cut more deftly and quickly than a barber cuts hair.
My mind said, "Oh, FUCK NO!" My jaw on the floor, my mouth managed to squeak, "I'll be right back."

I grabbed my phone and ran to the bathroom. I called Nick. Not coked-out Nick in the living room, but Nick that I had befriended earlier that night, with Shan. "Call me if you ever need anything, if you get in trouble," he had said. I was cashing in that favor.

I got his voicemail. "Hi, this is Nick, leave a message."
"Nick, hi, it's Jessica, from earlier. Listen, you said to call if I needed anything and.... I kind of... don't like where I am right now. I'm a little scared. I want to leave, and I was wondering if I could crash on your couch tonight or something? I need directions out of this neighborhood if nothing else. Anyway, call me back."

I went back out into the living room. "YOU WANT SOME?!" someone called.
"No thanks, I'm good." I went into the kitchen, planning my next move. By this time it was about three in the morning. I had no idea where I was. I paced. "Fuck, fuck, fuck...." My phone was in my hand. After about fifteen minutes, I went back to the bathroom and called Nick again. This time he picked up. "Hello?"
"Hey, Nick! Hey, it's Jessica -- I was calling to ask if--"
He cut me off. "I'm with my girlfriend right now." His tone was angry. Then he hung up.

I damn near lost it. Maybe I'm uncool, but cocaine really makes me uncomfortable. I hate it. And for a split-second I was half-tempted to call it quits and point the car back East, and just drive straight home. I closed my phone, ran out of the bathroom, through the kitchen, and out onto the sidewalk. Then I did the unthinkable. I called my dad.
"Hello?" he said, sleepily.
I was crying. "Hi, Dad." It was a squeak.
"What's wrong, honey?"
"I'm with people I don't know and they're all doing drugs."
"Where are you?"I sobbed. "Somewhere in Seattle. I don't really know where. I think I want to come home."
"Well, you can't right now. But can you find your way to a highway?"
"I can try."
"Can you find a hotel on the highway?"
"It's a Saturday night, Dad. They're all going to be full. But I know there's a Wal-Mart in Tacoma I can sleep at."
"Okay. Just get out of there. Find the highway, find Tacoma, and find the Wal-Mart. And call me when you get there."
"Okay."
"And calm down."
"Okay. I love you."
"Love you, too, honey."

But there was one problem. My lunchbox -- and my keys -- were still inside on the kitchen counter.

I could sneak in and grab it, and they'd never know, too busy putting things in their nose in the living room. I tried. But they saw me. "Where'd you go? Oh, my god, what's wrong?!" My face was a mess of tears. Tony all but pushed me up against a wall, grabbing my shoulders and bending down to look me in the eye. "Jess, what is it?! Oh my god! Are you okay?!" The two pretty girls watched in horror as I tried to speak.
What could I say? "Um, well, I hate all of you and I want to leave immediately."? "You all are losers and I want to be as far away from you as possible."? I don't think those would go over well.
I lied. "I'm just a little homesick," I squeaked.
The two girls melted. "Awwwwww!" They fawned over me, herding me onto the back porch, shoving more beer in my hand, hugging me and saying things like, "Don't think about that right now. Just look at this view. Here, sit here. Isn't the view nice? Just concentrate on that, 'kay? It sucks being homesick, but you'll be fine."
I obliged, but I really did want to leave. At one point I managed to get back into the house to use the bathroom and tried to escape again. This time Tony intercepted me. "Where are you going?"
"I'm leaving." I walked out the front door and he followed.
"Where are you going?"
"I don't know. Tacoma."
He was making more sense than he had been an hour earlier, speaking clearly and focusing on things with his eyes. He grabbed my hand and focused on me. "Jess, wait. Look, I'm sorry, okay? I'm really sorry I got you into this. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I'm so sorry. But please don't go. Listen -- it's really late and you don't know where you are. You could leave here and end up in a really bad part of town, and then you'd really be in trouble. Or you could stay here -- no one is trying to hurt you, remember -- and just go fall asleep. I promise no one will bother you."
I leveled his gaze, apprehensive.
"Trust me, Jess -- you're not in any danger here. You're better off staying here than trying to find your way somewhere now."
He was right. It made me so angry, but he was right.
"Okay."

I went back inside and claimed a futon in a corner of the living room. One of the pretty girls came over to give me a blanket. She was Japanese, and struggled with the language. "Here is blanket. You... okay?"
I managed a weak smile. "Yes, thank you. I'm fine."
She was adorably sweet, and tried her best to cheer me up in broken English. "Homesick is... hurting. My family.... very far away. I hurting too."
"When was the last time you saw your family?"
"Six year."
I felt like an asshole, even though the whole homesick thing was a lie. "Wow. That's.... that's tough."

Tony somehow convinced the others to party in the bedroom and on the back porch, leaving me with some semblance of peace. He stayed with me for a little while, until I fell asleep. He told me a bedtime story -- his life story. "Like I said, I'm from New York. But my wife lives in Virginia."
"Your wife?"
"Yeah. My wife and daughter."
"Daughter?"
His eyes fell. "Yeah. I met my wife while I was opening up a Ruby Tuesday in the Shenandoah Valley. It was love at first sight, y'know? Anyway, we were married for a little bit, she got pregnant, and I got out of the restaurant business for a little while and became a teacher. I taught middle school. I was planning on getting my masters. But then one night I got drunk. I got in a bar fight. Some cops broke it up, and one of them hit me really hard, so I hit him back. I ended up in jail for five months. Somehow she stayed with me. I guess for our daughter. So Elizabeth was born and about a year later, my wife and I were walking down the street. I was drunk. I saw the cop that had hit me, but he didn't see me. I went up behind him and cold-cocked him from behind. Then I ran. I ran.... heh. I ran all the way here. I haven't been back to Virginia since. I haven't seen my daughter since. That's why I move so often -- I don't want to be found."
"Why don't you just go back and turn yourself in?"
"Are you kidding? Second-time offense for assaulting an officer? That's at least five years in federal prison. I wouldn't last. I'd go crazy."
I couldn't think of anything to say.
He spoke slowly, quietly, almost in a fatherly way. "Why do you think I drink? Why do you think I snort? I don't do it because I like it. It's not that fun. I just do it to forget."
"That's crazy."
"That's life."

Soon I was asleep. Like Tony said, no one bothered me. From what I heard later, the sweet Japanese girl wasn't so lucky. "Oh, yeah," Tony told me the next morning. "She was asleep on the bed and one of the guys woke her up by shoving a line up her nose. She took it, though."

I couldn't think of anything to say.

I had to think of something to say, though, when I called my father back. I didn't want him to worry that I had stayed where I was, so I lied the biggest lie I’d ever told him. "Yeah, hey, I'm at the Wal-Mart in Tacoma."
"Okay, what are you going to do today?"
"I don't know. I think I'm going to the Mariners game."
"Okay, well just be careful, okay?"
"Yes, Dad. I love you."

I closed the phone and turned to Tony, who had fallen asleep on the floor next to my futon. Shaking his shoulder, I asked, "What time did you need me to bring you to that brunch place?"
He woke with a crazed start. "Huh?! Wha?!"
"What time did you need me to bring you to that place? For Bloody Marys?"
His face fell. He sat up, rubbed his eyes, and buried his face in his hands, elbows on knees. "Oh, God.... I don't even want to go. But they'll be mad... uh... now? Can we leave now? Can you take me to my place and then I'll take a shower, then you bring me back down to this area, then you can drive back up to my place and take a shower too?"
It sounded complicated, but I had already promised and bought a ticket to the game. I was still a little mad from the previous night's events, but made a wager. "Okay. We can leave now, and I can take you anywhere you need to go. But no more coke. I don't want to see it, I don't want to be around it, and I don't want to be around you if you're doing it."
"Deal! That's fine! I was going to say the same anyway -- no more while you're here."
"Okay. Let's go."

Scared in Seattle, Part 1

I walked into the Brooklyn at 10 PM to find Tony stirring martinis and cursing life in general. "What's wrong?"
"Why do I have to work to have money? Can't I just get money? Like, as a gift?"
"Is your last name Rockafeller?"
"No."
"Then no, you can't."
"Dammit."

I parked my butt on a barstool and a glass of pinot grigio appeared before me. Two early-thirtysomething guys came in, one tall and dark and one short and fair. They said hello to Tony and ordered some oysters. "Guys, this is my friend Jessica," Tony said, introducing us.
"Hi, I'm Shan," the tall guy said.
"Shan? That's a cool name. Nice to meet you."
"You too. And this is Nick."
I shook Nick's hand. "Hi."
"Hey. Hey, is that a real Fall Guy lunchbox?"
"No, but it is a real Six Million Dollar Man lunchbox."
"No way, really? Can I see it?"
"Sure."
Soon we were chatting like old friends. They shared their oysters with me, and they were delicious. At one point Shan asked me, "So are you really friends with... him?" He nodded towards Tony.
"Kind of. I just met him. We're not dating or anything, he's just letting me crash on his couch tonight."
"Oh. Okay."
"Why do you ask?"
His face twisted. "I don't... I just don't like him very much. I used to work here and I quit 'cause I got in a fight with him."
"Why?"
"Because he thought he was like, King Shit of the Restaurant."
"Eh. People get like that, I guess." I wasn't eager to engage in any fighting or side-taking.
"Yeah, I guess."
"If you don't like him, why'd you come here?"
"Best oysters in town."
"Oh."

"How's your heart?" Tony asked Shan.
Shan's face grew serious. "Dude. It was scary."
"I bet!" Tony replied.
I asked what happened.
"I had kind of like a mini-heart attack. But it wasn't a heart attack, it was just a convulsion in my heart. Hurt like a bitch, though. And I was kind of fucked, because I was working at this tiny little lake resort up in Wyoming and the closest hospital was fifty miles away. That was the worst ride of my life."
"Jeez. Well, I'm glad you're okay."
He laughed. "Yeah, me too. Thanks."

Tony was closing up, and tried to bridge the gap between he and Shan. "Jessica and I were about to go get some sushi, do you want to come with us?"
"We are?" I asked. I'd had no idea of any plans besides that sweet, sweet promise of a shower and sleeping on his couch.
"Yeah, I gotta meet someone at the sushi bar."
"Okay." I agreed, reluctantly.
"Sure, we'll come along!" Nick said. "Why not?"

The four of us walked the steep blocks to the sushi place, and I managed to catch a trace of a second wind. For a moment I caught that old familiar feeling of, "Wow -- yesterday afternoon I didn't know anyone here and now look -- friends!" I was content.
All of us were pretty underdressed for the sushi bar, which was laid out like a New York club. Shan, Nick and I ordered tuna tartare and Shan hated it, leaving more for Nick and I. Somewhere along the line we lost Tony, who went outside to make a bunch of calls and ended up running into Three Of The Drunkest People In The Entire World, who were drunk partly thanks to the booze he'd served them earlier. The four of them came inside, Tony, two women and one man. The women were both blonde, one broader than the other. The tiny one kept making out with the man, himself a broad, blonde thing. Tony walked in with a look that said, "What have I gotten myself into?", catching my eye over the heads of the three partiers.
"Oh my god, you have a lunchpail!" the tall blonde woman shouted at me.
"Yeah!""I have a Ramones one from when I was little!"
"That's incredible! Hold onto it. And by 'hold onto it', I mean 'give it to me'."
She cackled, throwing her head back. "I have to pee! Come pee with me!"
I accompanied her to the bathroom to make sure she didn't fall and crack her head on the toilet.

I managed to dodge the drunkards and get back to where Shan and Nick were sitting for a few minutes. Tony wasn't so lucky. Shan asked where I was headed after Seattle.
"Oregon, eventually."
"Where are you staying?"
"With a friend, a very dear friend I haven't seen in years."
"Okay. Well, my dad lives in Vancouver. Write this number down, I'll give you his number."
"But I'm not going to Canada."
He gave me a joking look. "Duh! Vancouver, Washington, not Canada!"
"Oh. I knew that."
"Yeah, I know you did," he teased. "Anyway, his name is Ken. If you get into any trouble, call him."
"Thanks so much. That's very cool of you."
Nick chimed in. "Yeah, you really need people to call if you get in trouble, y'know? Here, take my number, too. Just in case."
"Are you sure?"
"Well, yeah! We're New Yorkers, we gotta stick together!" Nick was a transplant from the North Bronx.
"Well, thanks." I saved his number in my phone.

"Well, we gotta go," Nick said.
"Already? Aww, man!"
"Yeah, already." He nodded toward Shan, who was asleep with his head in his hands.
"Oh. Okay. Well, nuff said. Thanks for the offer to call if I need you."
"No problem. Use it."
"Okay."
"I'm so drunk!" I heard behind me, coming from the mouth of the blonde woman. Tony again caught my eye, flustered.
'Well, get home safe -- get him home safe," I said to Nick, who was corralling Shan toward the door.
"Thanks -- goodnight!"

I begrudingly joined Tony at the table with the blonde threesome. The tiny blonde tore her mouth off the man long enough to tell me about her three kids and her husband. "My kids are so great! My husband is so great, too!"
I looked at the man. "She speaks highly of you, huh?"
"Oh, this isn't my husband," she cut in. I looked at her quizzically and she tried her best to explain. "Look. I loved my husband. We got married and were very in love. Then we had kids. And I still love him. But not like before. But I will again someday. When the kids go to college. We put in on a shelf, kind of. And in the meantime I just..... y'know....."
"Cheat?"
"No, it's not cheating. This is my best friend." She ran her hand up and down the chest of her companion.
"Um, okay."
It made no sense and perfect sense at the same time, and that scared me. "I'm never getting married," I thought.

Soon, Tony was ready to leave and we walked to my car to drive home. "Jeez, that woman!" he cried, referring to the tall blonde. "I swear, if I have one more woman give me a hotel key card....."
"You got her key card?"
He sounded embarrassed. "Yeah."
"You wanna go for it? I can handle my own."
"Are you kidding me? Hell no! How valuable can it be if she's giving it away like that? Gross! Hey, you wanna go grab a drink at a little place in Queen Anne's for a minute? I need to wind down a little."
I most certainly didn’t, but said sure.
Soon we were at a dimly-lit, cozy bar being waited on by another one of the scores of bartenders Tony knew. "How's your wife?" Tony asked the man.
"Huge!"
"Matt's wife is pregnant," Tony whispered to me.
"Ohhh..."

Tony was drinking faster than I could even keep track. I went to the bathroom and came back to find another drink at my seat, even though I wasn't done with the first. "Come on, drink faster," Tony encouraged.
"Uh, in case you forgot, I'm driving."
"Eh, whatever. You can handle it."
I was starting to get annoyed. I pushed the drink away and ordered a water. Tony pretended not to notice.

Some friends of Tony's arrived, and surprised me because they were all very young. The four of them were also white as could be, but dressed like thugs. "Yo, baby, wassup?" one asked Tony, pounding his fist in variety of jabs and finger tricks.
"Not much, man, not much. This is Jessica."
I shook the boy's hand. "Hi."
"I'm Nick. Damn, girl! You got a strong grip!"
"Eh, you know. Would you rather a dead fish handshake?"
"True dat, true dat. Hey, Tony, man, what's going on tonight?"
"I don't know, what is going on?"
"Why don't y'all come back to my girl's place. I think there might be something goin' on there. Right, baby?"
A polished girl with a designer purse nodded shyly.
"Okay. We'll be there a little later."
"Right on, man, right on."
The four of them filed out the door.
"Aren't you tired?" I asked Tony, not excited about being dragged to a party. "You've been working all day and up all last night."
"I never get tired!" he exclaimed. "Anyway, we're only going to stop by there, we're not going to stay very long."
I was uneasy. "Okay…..”

Neo-Geo is a No-Go: Seattle on a Summer Afternoon

Tony's hangover seemed to subside over top-shelf margaritas at a Mexican place on the pier. Margaritas, plural, because he had two, whereas I had only water and the sweet solace of tortilla chips to settle my quaking stomach. "You sure you don't want one?" he asked, licking the straw clean of icy bits.
"Positive." I stuck the bright yellow umbrella in my ponytail and tried to quiet my hands from shaking. "How is it that the hair of the dog can get rid of your hangover, but it's not even the hair of the dog? Weren't you drinking whiskey last night? Bourbon? Now tequila? That's like, the hair of the dog that bit your dog."
"Bit your dog's ass, ha! I like it!" He chewed the ice cubes before pushing the glass back to the bartender.

It was hot. We had walked around the water's edge, in and out of all the market places and tourist traps. "I know the bartender here, let's go in here," Tony would say, and in we'd go to another scrimshaw-and-lifesaver oak-paneled eatery, zip past the hostess and straight to the bar, where Tony would realize he didn't recognize the face shaking the Bloody Marys and off we'd go to the next place. It was like being back in New York again -- especially because Tony was from New York just like I was-- but with Pacific Indian carvings next to every doorway. We finally ended up at Mama's Mexican because Tony had all but exhausted his social parlay in that five-block radius. And the margaritas, he said, were "killer".

On our walk, he had told me about one of the women he was dating, a nurse. "She's so cool, but in a good girl way. She doesn't like my lifestyle."
"How do you mean?"
"She doesn't like when I do stuff."
"Stuff. Stuff?"
"Like, she gets all bent out of shape when I do coke and whatnot. I tell her, 'Hey. I don't do it around you.' Y'know? I mean, I like her a lot. But sometimes I feel like I'm dating my mom."
"Hmmmm. That's too bad." I didn't say much else. For some reason, unbeknownst even to me, coke unsettles me. I don't like the idea of it, I don't want to hang out with people while they do it, and I don't like hanging out with people after they do it. It scares me. Call me square, but it scares me. Maybe I'm the only one, but I don't like it one bit. And I didn't ask Tony how often he did it, because I didn't want to know.

Sitting at the bar, Tony let slip how much money he makes and I nearly choked on an ice cube. "Tell me you're investing it," I asked.
He laughed. "Um.... define 'investing'. I spend money, if that's what you mean. I'm completely broke."
"That's bullshit. I throw my bullshit flag at that."
"No, I'm serious. I'm totally broke."
"How?!"
"Well, let's see.... in the past month, there's been baseball to bet on, then Dave Matthews tickets, horse races to bet on, Neko Case tickets, um, I went down to visit a friend in Oregon -- if you ever go, you should go to Multnomah Falls, it's gorgeous -- and then, what else... y'know -- just the regular hanging out."
I knew he meant buying drugs. I didn't take the conversation any further.
"You like Dave Matthews?" I asked.
"Oh, yeah. I never miss him if he comes here. Y'know, one time, years and years ago, I was working for the Ruby Tuesday corporation down in southern Virginia--"
"I used to work for Ruby Tuesday, too!" I cut in.
"Really? Cool! Well, anyway, I was down in southern Virginia opening a new store. My friend and I went into this little dive bar just to have some beers and shit. So anyway, this guy was waiting on us and we asked him, 'Hey, is there anything going on tonight in this town?' And he said, 'Well, we have live music later tonight if you want to stick around.' So we did. So about an hour later he comes up and says, 'I have to close out your tab or switch it to the next guy.' So we paid him, and he left the bar. The band was getting ready to play. There was a black guy with an electric fiddle, and a bigger black guy warming up the drums. Then the bartender went over and picked up a guitar and started playing. It was Dave Matthews."
"Shut up!"
"No, I'm dead serious."
"That's awesome!"

"So," he said, slurping the tad-bits of his second margarita, "I have to go to work at three. Are you going to come by later?"
"Sure."
"Are we going to hang out later?"
"That sounds cool."
"Did Mike call you back yet?"
"No."
"That's pretty shitty."
I had called Mike to see if I could still take him up on his couch offer, but there was no reply, not even hours later. "I told you," Tony said. "Bainbridge, man. They're all flakes."
"Yeah... " My voice trailed off. In my mind the thoughts went reluctantly rapid. "I showered this morning. I guess I could go a couple days without, although I am a little sweaty from the hangover and the sun. Well, how much is it to park at the lot an extra night? I could sneak into the garage by crawling past the nightwatchman's booth on my knees and he'd never know. That staircase isn't too well surveyed. I could pay on the way out and freshen up at the gas station over on Second." This is not only normal, this is frequent for me now.

Tony could see the smoke trailing from my ears. "Stop it," he said. "Just stay with me tonight."
"I don't know."
"No, seriously. I have a roommate but he's harmless. And I have a couch -- two couches, actually. You can have your choice of either. And I have a shower that you're free to use. Seriously. It's no big deal."
Crawling guerilla-style past the nightwatchman would have made a better story, but Tony had said the S-word -- "shower".
"Okay. Thanks."
"Good, now come on. I'll show you where the library is."
On the way, we stopped at Tully's, a Starbucks-esque chain, for ice mochas. "Let me get this," I said.
"Are you sure?"
I winked at him. "Call it rent."

The Seattle Central Public Library on Fourth and Madison is still considered a marvel of modern architecture, but hopefully someday it will be the standard. The building itself maintains its landscaping with recycled rainwater collected in two large subterranean tanks as it runs off the angled glass ceilings. There are specially designated areas for adults, teens, children, and Web users, spread throughout five floors. Heating costs are kept low thanks to passive and active solar technology. It really is a sight, and looks a bit odd parked right there on Madison amid the early-1900's neo-classical structures. But it is quite nice, even if only half of the electrical outlets work. I spent hours there, catching up on writing, until the staff politely kicked me to the curb. It was early yet, only seven o'clock, and Tony wouldn't be getting out of work until nearly midnight, so I walked around downtown Seattle for awhile. I loved the exercise I got tromping up and down all those hills and city blocks; it made me homesick for the Upper East Side.

Eventually I ended up in a courtyard across the street from the mall. I'm not sure of the official name of the courtyard, but I started calling it Shantytown because of all the hobos. Most were young, probably under 21, and were camped somewhat comfortably beneath trees and on the cement platform stage that bordered the street. I don't know if Seattle has more homeless people per capita than some other cities (besides New York) or if the number is average and it's only that the homeless belonging to other cities are in hiding. But not in Seattle, not this day. And they were set up -- dogs, cats, cat kennels, Gameboys, and enough snacks to stock a gas station. One long-haired, shaggy man in black sweatpants and a cammo jacket even had a nice Dell laptop plugged into an outlet on the side of a lamppost. I laughed to myself, and then tried to find a similar lamppost. Unfortunately, he had the only working one in the park, so I worked off my battery power. In between paragraphs, I people-watched. There was a themed bachelorette party wreaking fun and havoc on the park. The theme was "Totally 80's", and each of the girls was garbed in their best Madonna-wannabe outfits. They challenged the hobos to Running Man and Roger Rabbit dance-offs in the middle of the square, and ran through the fountain. I laughed so hard I almost peed, but I didn't crash the party, much as I wanted to. I was sleepy, and conversation was near beyond me, much less the Roger Rabbit.

A gray-haired but fresh-faced woman walked by and asked the time. She was dressed in pink shorts and a blue t-shirt. Her curly hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she carried a variety of bulging duffel and plastic bags.
"7:45," I told her.
"Thanks! And do you know where a payphone is?"
"I sure don't. But you can use my cellphone if you want."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah! After seven is free."
"Oh, thank you so much!" She pulled a scrap of paper from one of her bags and took the phone. "I met a lady who needs a fifth runner for a charity relay race tomorrow but I don't know where to meet her!" She laughed a clear, beautiful laugh.
"Oh! Well, take your time," I said. She spoke so well, with no trace of an ignorant accent or anything. "She must have just come from the gym and went shopping," I thought. "There's no way she's homeless. She's too clean and too smart."

It took her a moment to figure out how to dial and send, then she said, "Hello, Gayle? Hi, this is Linda, the lady from the bathroom. Do you still need another runner tomorrow? Okay, great. Should I meet you at the starting line? Do I need a number? The registration booth? Where will that be? Okay. No, this isn't my number, this is someone's cellphone I borrowed. Yeah. Okay, so tomorrow at eight? Okay, thanks so much! I'll see you then! Take care, Gayle!"
She turned to me and handed me the phone. I was still sitting on the ground, looking up at her. She was healthy and pretty, in a very "granola" kind of way. I liked her.
"Thanks again," she said. "That really helped me out." Then her cheeks grew pink as she lowered her voice and sheepishly said, "The reason for the bags is that I'm homeless."
What could I say? "Oh. Well. Huh. Well, good luck tomorrow!"
"Thanks!" She picked up her array of bags and trotted away, with small steps.

That evening my notebook read, "How did she slip through the cracks?"

Laptop Man came over after seeing me sitting Indian-style surrounded by cords, cameras and various notebooks. "What kind of computer is that?"
"An Averatec."
"A what?"
"It's a lesser-known brand. But it works for me."
"Oh, that's cool. Do you like video games?" He sat down beside me. I could smell the tell-tale scent of stickiness and dirt. He whipped out his Dell from his battered backpack, along with a burnt copy of something called "gamezzz". "This is every original Nintendo game. Do you want me to install it for you?"
"Um, no thanks. I'm good. I have a hard enough time keeping myself on track without Tetris being on my computer. What's your name?"
"I'm Mark." He extended a smile and a hand tipped with black fingernails.
"Jessica."
"Nice to meet you!"
"Likewise!"
"So, are you homeless too?"
"Kind of."
"Where are you staying tonight?"
"At a friend's house."
"Oh, that's nice. Are you going to stay there tomorrow?"
"I don't know yet."
"Oh. Well, 'cause if you need to camp, you'd be better off going to the park up on Washington Square. You'd have to go early to claim the bushes, so you could hide yourself. Because you're a girl."
He meant camp in the sleeping outside sense, not the pitching a tent sense.
"Is it that bad?"
"Well, you're a girl. And you don't want people to mess with you. You're sure you don't want me to install this program? It's really fun!"
Only in Seattle and possibly San Francisco will the homeless share pirated software.
"No, thanks. I don't even have that much battery left. It probably wouldn't even work." Still, I felt surprisingly relaxed around him, even my fingers and toes releasing tension I didn't know was there. It was bleeding out into the pavement, leaving me with a smile on my face -- probably from the silliness of it all.

While Mark fiddled with his own laptop, I looked up from mine to watch a homeless kid -- the same I had asked directions from the day before -- plop down on his knees in a crowd of other drifters. With his long neck and big nose, he reminded me of an ostrich. He began making out with a heavy girl in a dirty Old Navy sweatshirt, and she ran her fingers through his yucky hair. I looked away, not in disgust, but trying to pretend I didn't know what it is like to feel a kiss.

"Do you have a job?" Mark asked, snapping me back to reality.
"Not right now. I write a lot."
"That's cool. I tried to get a job but I haven't been able to yet. First I want to buy some new clothes."
"I bet you could get a good set at the Salvation Army."
"Yeah. But because I don't have a job, I don't have any money to get new clothes to get a job."
"Are the thrift stores around here that expensive?" I asked.
"This is Seattle."
"Oh, yeah."
"You're really sure you don't want this program? It's got Neo-Geo!"
I laughed. "Dude. I am totally serious. I don't need video games. I'm bad enough with Myspace."
"Okay." He seemed so dejected.
It was getting late, and I was hungry. I had two dollars and a wallet full of McDonald's coupons.
"Mark, I gotta go. Thanks for the camping tips. Here," I said, handing him the two dollars. "Add this to the new pants fund."
"Are you sure? Do you have enough money for yourself?"
"I have money, don't worry. Good luck finding work."
"Thanks," he said quietly.

I packed up my things and walked toward Third Avenue, waving goodbye as I went.

Welcome Back, Blogger

Well, kids, I'm back at it. It's only been about, oh, 3 years or so?

Rather than start from scratch, I'm planning a new roll-out of all things Road. Within the year I'm hoping to have a YouTube channel for road movies, a flickr.com page for all the photos and possibly even a TRR Twitter. The book, of course, is forthcoming -- with pictures -- but must wait until after I collect and translate the king's ransom of notes I have scribbled on the back of diner reciepts and wine bottle labels.

Read, subscribe, write me, do whatever. It's just nice to have you back.