I strolled to work in a short-sleeve shirt, but ended up snagging a jacket from my apartment around ~06:30 p.m., and hoofing it downtown to grab some cheap dinner from "Jack In The Box" on Bellevue Way. First things first, the day started with clear skies and mild weather, but ended dark and ominous (w/ slight rain). At 06:00 p.m. it seemed 09:00 p.m. On the way back I cut through a small (semi-secluded) concrete park off of NE 2nd St., across from the CIVICA Office Commons. The shrouded nook has a few circular bench structures with a barrage of flora sprouting from the centers. I sat down to mellow out for a few minutes with my loaded backpack of steaming $0.99 cheese-burgers. I casually absorbed the surroundings when I glanced to the far corner. I thought I heard a muffled groan, then noticed the small burning 'cherry' of a cigarette. A voice (man) started talking to me (non-threatening). So I slowly paced over to his bench so I could listen more intently. There was just enough light to make-out he was wearing jeans, boots, jacket, sunglasses, and a cowboy hat. One could see he was scruffy, wore a pony-tail, and nursed a bottle (Jim Beam). The bottom line is you knew this guy was down on his luck. I discovered he was an ex-sailor (captain) that was supposed to get paid to commandeer a vessel of 'goods' from somewhere in the Caribbean. Immediately I took everything with a minor grain of salt. Namely because the whole scenario seemed a little too fishy, and just a tad on the shady side. What were the 'goods', and where was he supposed to deliver them? Apparently he had trouble with the law in the past (never mentioned what), had no money, was former Navy, and just trying to make money the only way he knew how (sailing). He managed to hop a flight to Seattle, and was attempting to get into Canada (then jump to the Caribbean), but got his passport snaked, and had no other form of ID. So how did he buy booze and cigarettes? Regardless, he was stuck in Bellevue, after proclaiming he had to get out of Seattle. My burgers were getting cold, but the guy was (believe it or not) very articulate, well-mannered, and laid-back. He had a modest buzz, held a decent conversation, and never asked for anything. In the end I wished him luck, took one swig of J.B. (after he insisted), and that was that. Though these moments are rare, they manage to strike you on a basic level of humanity, one which can't be ignored. Time to eat.
