city lyfe

It's been an odd forty-eight hours.
I caught a bus to West Seattle Wednesday evening during a cold winter downpour. The bus smelled like ass and was maybe 3/4 full. It cleared out downtown, and some of the swamp crotch smell departed with one de-busing guy at 3rd and Pine. Down towards Main Street, a guy got on and cracked a PBR at the other end of our bench seat. Against the law, Metro frowns on it, but who am I to judge? He wasn't bothering anyone. Two more guys got on by the stadiums, with bulky bags, from which they proceeded to withdraw knives. A dozen at least, most in store packaging, with menacing blades. By the time we hit the West Seattle Bridge I was in full-on panic. The guy nearest me, still wearing sunglasses at 7pm, was demonstrating his best stabbing motions, with a knife in each hand. I tried to breathe and stay calm. Around me, other passengers were casting wary glances. When my stop came, I got up and walked between the two knuckleheads, who very politely said "Excuse us," and temporarily stopped with the stabby-stabby.
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Later that evening I somehow grabbed a buddy's debit card, as we were settling up after Talarico's trivia. Unfortunately, I didn't discover the error til the next morning, when the ATM I was at kept asking me to re-enter my PIN. As a bonus, my buddy didn't notice it either. He even bought coffee with my card. I hope he didn't leave an exorbitant tip. We realized the error and made a swap yesterday afternoon.
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While I waited for my bus Thursday morning near Seattle Center, the sweetest little robin perched at a tree outside Agave restaurant and tweeted its heart out. What a delightful sound.
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And speaking of non-delightful sounds, I went for a massage after work. The massage therapist was great--the jaw massage changed my life--but her sound machine crapped out about 10 minutes in. Instead of restful gongs and birdsong, we spent the next 40 minutes listening to the hustle and bustle of east Pine Street--bro's congregating and talking on the corner, car engines revving, clomping boot-steps, a crying child. I tried to summon some mental white noise and tune out, just for a few moments, the late afternoon aural gyrations.