chipolte.


girl was like, "what happened to all your friends?" i said i didn't know. "they all just move after college or what?" i said yeah, i guess, some of them. some of them stuck around. she said that when she was visiting down south, she was irritable and said she was just going to move back there. "seattle's a cold city," i said. she agreed, even though it was a hot one in late june. we were standing at the bus stop on pine, across the street from the egyptian. i didn't want her to wait around for my bus to come, but she did anyway. when it finally arrived, she said, "have a good trip," and i said, "thanks." we didn't hug or shake hands or anything. i think that's how she liked it.

by the time the bus turned into the 7 and made its rounds downtown, my stomach was hurting. earlier, we ate at barrio, an upscale mexican restaurant on 12th. she didn't like baja fresh, but she likes chipotle. when she types it or says it, though, it's "chipolte." we were looking for a restaurant for happy hour, but it was already late into the evening, and no place was having happy hour anymore. so, we ended up at barrio. "this okay?" she asked. "it's fine," i said. the hostess sat us at a table in an isolated corner, and maybe she assumed we were together. we're not together, i wanted to reassure her. that's the problem with society nowadays.

we ordered micheladas or something like that. it was basically mexican beer poured into a glass with hot sauce, a lime, and a salted rim. "it's like a beer margarita," she said. we drank it. it tasted like shit. "this is awful," she said. i agreed. "it's undrinkable," she said. i nodded. she asked me about the wedding. "it was okay," i said. i had nothing else to say about it. she nodded, as though realizing that i had nothing else to say about it. i asked her about the trip she took south. she told me a little bit about it. i nodded and drank some more of the awful beer.

she ordered tacos, and i ordered an enchilada or something. i was shocked and disappointed when the waiter came back with tiny portions. i wished then that i was having a burrito ultimo, nachos, and a coke instead. i didn't get the tiny enchilada and the shit beer hot sauce concoction. i've never understood the "upscale" restaurants. i guess that people with money don't like to eat. what's with the dinky ass portions? what are they trying to prove? this is america, goddamnit.

we went out for ice cream afterward, something i could relate to. the girl at the register was cute, and i had to say something. "she's got an alexis bledel thing going on," i said. i could tell she didn't care, but she nodded anyway. she ordered two scoops of something, and i ordered a scoop of scout mint. i paid for hers because she covered more of the barrio bill. probably she felt guilty that the beers were so bad. i gave alexis bledel a two dollar tip. she smiled. we're not together, i wanted to say.

we sat at the park and watched fools play basketball. it was an intense five-on-five, full-court game. it was the most ethnically diverse game i had ever seen. i turned around just in time to see a tall black dude miss a really easy lay-up. "fuck!" he yelled. there was a couple out on the field playing catch. they were definitely together. "this is the flirtiest game of catch i've ever seen!" she said. "yeah," i said, "maybe it's foreplay." we laughed at that. sometimes, i can be absurd.

after that, i caught my bus. my stomach was hurting. hot sauce beer and ice cream, and i was hurting. who would've guessed? i had to jump off the bus at the international district. i ran into the dim sum place where i had lunch once, and it was all over.

i walked to the next stop and waited for the next bus to come along.

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