Macy’s watch repair finally, after six months, called to inform me that they once again had in their possession my beloved Seiko watch I bought in Hong Kong, the cost of which to repair exceeded the total value of the watch itself. (#1)
So I go down to the underbelly of the Burnside Bridge (#2) to catch the Max (#3) to Lloyd Center (#4).
At the Rose Garden I’m joined by an man my age more drunk at 1pm than I have ever been at 3am (#5) and a young man literally lighting a fresh bowl of buttery kind bud (#6) who then proceeds to freestyle rap about the Max (#7) for two more stops. The drunk guy tries gamely to engage us in a pointless three-way conversation about cel phones (#8).
I have no issues with the Lloyd Center Max stop, at least it’s outdoors.
But what the hell, let’s throw in walking through the unlit parking garage (#9) to get into the Lloyd Center Macy’s, where the watch repair person is out to lunch (#10) for the next half hour.
So, I figure, I’m in the mall and I need a new pair of jeans, I might as well go to Sears (#11) — where surely Levi’s will be cheaper than at Macy’s — and try on jeans in the unstaffed fitting room (#12) while the inventory control alarm sounds continuously while I try on clothes (#13).
Upon returning to Macy’s I pass a Levi’s display — manned by actual salespeople, natch — where the exact make of jeans I just bought are $3 cheaper (#14).
The watch repair salesgirl did cheerfully refund the $75 deposit I put down for this non-repair. And on the Max ride back into downtown I caught a sunbreak in the rain, with a beautiful view of Forest Park glowering behind the Fremont Bridge. (Double win!)
But on the west side of the Steel Bridge I realized I had unwittingly boarded the Yellow Line Max and would thus have an eight block hike in the freezing rain. (#15)
Life is so unjust sometimes, innit?