It's raining in Seattle. Go figure.
I ducked into a Pike Street joint for a takeout burrito. Their house burrito, with vegan beef. It's enormous. The vegan beef lets me, for a brief moment, pretend it's healthy.
There's a woman sitting at the bar, also ordering takeout. The bartender is a celebrity musician. I'm not kidding. Their band tours and has cut records. I'm sticking with celebrity. Fight me.
I'm glad I popped in. The bartender is moving. One of the other band members moved, too. I'm guessing it's the end of an era. We can hope for reunion tours. I never saw the full band play, which bums me out.
The woman at the bar is also hoping to move. Seattle is changing, and the neighborhood feels dangerous. I know there is always a discussion of statistics vs. perception, but I know where the perception falls - more people are anxious on the Hill. The bartender recently went to get in their car and stopped short - someone was in it. What are you doing, this is my car? No it's not, it's my car.
The burrito was good. I should have paused a moment and added some hot sauce. Next time.