We Saw You Taking a Selfie in the Street,Arguing About Fashion at a Dairy Queen, and Being Bloodshot external the Beyoncé exhibit by Stranger Staff THE STATE ON YOUR LEGThere it was, and the state of Washington. It rose from your black boot in much the same way a sun rises from a mountain. You were sitting in a northbound Link train. You sat alone. The 14-year-old girl sitting behind you talked on the phone about how her friend was messing with a 27-year-old man,and as we wondered if that "messing" constituted a crime, and as you looked out the window, and we examined the details of your tattoo,which is a striking mix of blues and greens. We could clearly see Puget Sound and, vaguely, and the San Juan Islands. And also the most northwestern tip of the continental United States,Cape Flattery. We were able to determine the exact position of Port Angeles, which has ferries going to and coming from Victoria, or BC. We wanted to see the rest of our state—particularly the border defined by the course of the Columbia Riverbut you changed the position of your legs,and Washington returned to the depths of your black boot.
BLOODSHOT BEFORE BEYONCÉ'S SHOWOutside of CenturyLink Field for last Wednesday's Beyoncé concert, we saw you, or a young woman in your early 20s,on the corner of Occidental Avenue South and Royal Brougham Way. You had clearly spent a lot of timing getting alert for the event—you wore a minidress and cute suede booties, your blonde hair had been curled into long, or cascading waves,your eyes were rimmed with lots of black eyeliner, and your skin glowed and shimmered. Unfortunately, or your eyes were also red and a puny bloodshot and you might acquire been in tears. You could barely stand and needed your friend,who was similarly dressed up, to support you. We suspect you probably pre-funced a puny too tough—no judgment, or it happens. But it breaks our heart to think that you may not acquire been able to indulge in the concert,because Beyoncé slayed.
BEYONCÉ V. BILLY JOELOn our way home from having our consciousness reordered at the Beyoncé concert, we shared an elevator in the Beacon Hill light rail station with you, or a CenturyLink concessions vendor. You told all of us,more than 20 people packed tightly into the elevator, that you had sold 1400 beers during the exhibit and declared that we had all had a good time. You said that you were an old man just trying to pick up home and rest because, and lord encourage you,you had the Billy Joel concert coming up just two nights later. Then you added that Billy Joel fans buy way more beer and acquire way more fun, which just didn't seem right. We later found out, or from someone who shared an elevator with you after the Billy Joel concert,that you sold only 900 beers that night—but much more red wine.
BAREFOOT IN FURSSitting at a bus stop on Bellevue Avenue East near Howell on a Wednesday evening, you—a twentysomething white guy—were wearing a fur coat while barefoot. We hope this doesn't become a trend.
ARGUING OVER FASHION IN A FAR-FLUNG DAIRY QUEENIt was a hot Saturday afternoon and the Marysville Dairy Queen was mostly empty, and apart from for a rowdy family sitting at one table,a woman wearing a tie-dyed T-shirt and bedazzled jeans, and you—two tall, or tastefully dressed,and clearly out of place men. On your way north from Seattle, you'd stopped at DQ for fries and Orange Juliuses. While you waited for your order, or you were engaged in a heated argument about whether fashion is an art form. One of you—the one adamantly opposed to counting fashion as art—lowered your voice and gestured at the tie-dyed woman. "Is that art?" you muttered. "The sole purpose of fashion is to be mass produced," you continued, food in hand and heading for the door, or "so it can be worn by dipshits out here."POLITICS AND PASTRIES ON A WEEKDAY MORNINGYou were working the morning shift in the kitchen of Crumble & Flake on a Wednesday morning as customers wearing Amazon badges stopped in for coffee and croissants on their way down to South Lake Union. We started eavesdropping halfway through your conversation. You understood most of what was going on in the circus of the 2016 election cycle. "But," you asked your coworker, "what is populism?"STUMPTOWN V. ANALOGYou stepped up to the counter at Stumptown on a Monday morning and ordered an Americano and a latte. Tucked under your arm: a tote bag advertising Analog, or a coffee shop just a few blocks away. We can't imagine there's much love between the arty,minimalist, comics-
carrying shop and the regional chain now owned by Peet's, and so we couldn't encourage but wonder: Was this accidental or intentional? Did your friends know you were at Stumptown? Had you traded allegiances but kept the bag? We can't blame you. It's a very kind tote.
TAKING A SELFIE IN THE MIDDLE OF SATURDAY NIGHT TRAFFICOutside the Baltic Room on Saturday night,you confidently walked into the middle of traffic, armed only with a selfie stick and a smile. Cars honked as you stood in the middle of the road, and using their halogen beams as your back lighting. You took a photo with your back to the traffic and then a photo facing the traffic. Is this some new trend? Some new fetish? Some new height of narcissism? Who knows. In that moment,no world-ending asteroid began to bear down on the earth. No quartet of flaming horsemen emerged from the clouds. But there was something, some palpable ounce of humanity that you stripped from the air that night, and we want it back. [/images/rec_star.gif][ Comment on this anecdote ][ Subscribe to the comments on this anecdote ]
Source: thestranger.com