Friday, December 12, 2008

Belltown Family Fun

Here is what my barely literate self does on Friday mornings:
a) Take stock of my surroundings. Having grown up in Seattle I am in constant fear of being asked to sign a petition or approve a new measure to fund an extension of the monorail as I get out of bed. (,no_homers//music/4RUrHfo5/the_simpsons_the_monorail_song_from_the_episode_marge_vs_t/ )
b) Remove my clown makeup.
c) Go to practice, and proceed to try and recapture my former/never attained collegiate glory and waistline since I have the metabolism of a hibernating polar bear.
d) Make child-like stabs at completing the NY Times crossword puzzle, until someone snatches the paper away from me because I giggle whenever a clue contains the word "pianist", "breasts", or "electoral college".

This morning, my ritualistic approach to putting off work was thwarted by a simple, yet elegant turn of phrase in the Seattle P.I., the lesser-known idiot step-child to the Seattle Times. What was this show-stopping couplet, you ask? Far be it from me to keep you on the edge of your seat/physio-ball/high-chair.

Stabbing in *gasp* Belltown!!????!

What? Nay! Belltown? You must be mistaken. Surely it was just a group of youngsters out for some wholesome fun exchanging barbs with a local shop-owner or footman. Violence is not tolerated here in Belltown, center of Seattle's far-famed arts scene and the only place in the territory you can see a talkie feature, dear sir! J'accuse!! *slap-slap*

I had forgotten that things like this were even reported on in Belltown. Unless there are robotic pandas attacking people or another Mime-Gang turf war, I just assumed that things like this were viewed in the same way as tornadoes are in Kansas, or drunk-driving Kennedys were in D.C., California... well, everywhere. Imagine my surprise when a whole five sentences were devoted to the description of what I generally referred to as "A slow night" when I worked in the area.

If you are unfamiliar with Belltown, its surroundings, or what passes for decorum there, let me paint a picture:

Now just add:

Now place both in a blender, add enough Red Bull and vodka to Kennedy-ify the New Zealand All-Blacks, a hot dog cart, 500 striped button-down shirts and you've got Belltown on a Wednesday. What, did you think I was going to use words to paint a picture? If I still haven't found where my name is on my diploma (I think it's somewhere to the left of the DeVry insignia, and below the bright red letters that say "copy: not for publication"), what makes you think I would use pictograms to give voice to my talky-thoughts? Pay attention!

When it comes to Belltown, I know of what I speak. I spent the better (read: majority, not better) part of two years as a doorman every Friday and Saturday night there. Being a doorman makes you privy to all sorts of fun. Some of my favorites include:

  • My boss buying "illicit substances" (see the previous video if you want specifics) with wine from his wine cellar.
  • A drunken, drive-by motorcycle shooting wherein the shooter was a) on his 21 run and b) on a stolen motorcycle, and the targets were six bike cops who were waiting for him with guns drawn because he had threatened them earlier in the evening when he was 86'd and was then spotted revving his stolen bike at the bottom of the hill and pointing at them for several minutes before he actually proceeded to commence his drive-by (see: stealth, lack or disregard of)
  • Local sports caster Dan Devone using the line "Don't you know who I am?" when trying to sneak past the line at a dance club and being answered with: "Yeah, you're a hack sportscaster on a second rate news station. Tuck in your shirt."
And so on...

People, this is not news to anyone. News usually follows the simple formula of: something unexpected or singular happens somewhere (i.e. Keanu Reeves acts!! or Kelly Rippa not Pregnant. For local flavor, replace Kelly Rippa with Anngie Menken from FSN). The sun always rises in the east, GM makes cars that self destruct at frightening rates and Italian soccer players flop more than Matt LeBlanc movies involving baseball-playing chimps.

So don't waste your time reporting on things that we as Seattleites take for granted. We expect good coffee, exceptionally bad drivers and violence in Belltown. Now go and report on something that we aren't expecting...

Look, that bear is playing hockey! Oh, you win again Russia...

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