It's been hot in Seattle. Hot and dry after a non-winter. We've had 80-degree days and it's only May.
People here get sun-crazy. On the train ride home last night, the guy behind me spent most of the trip on his phone, trying to get a ride from whatever station was coming up next, all conversation conducted in a loud urgent monotone. Across the aisle, two pairs of nerds in My Little Pony backpacks loudly debated Simpsons versus South Park. Merciful arrival at Westlake, transfer to a bus, where a contingent of drunk, still-drinking men lay across the back seats and talked belligerently, so much so that the driver got on her scratchy intercom and asked them to knock it off. Which of course made them more irate, and scream even louder. The guy sitting in front of me turned around to ask me for a dollar. Seriously, dude? I declined. One of the angry men lurched forward, yelling for the driver to let him off the bus and calling her a bitch.
I looked outside at the hazy moon and wished for rain.