Seattle, WA

I had a moment of Zen this evening from drinking too many cappuccinos. Let me clarify. We must go back to this morning when I awoke to the bright silver glow of my sister’s brand new espresso machine. A machine so impressive I think it comes with it’s own Official Barista Business License and a Certified Yuppie Plaque. After watching the How To Video (that she specifically required me to watch before using) I made the best cappuccino I’ve ever made in my life.

So walk with me for a bit. Throughout the day I have two cappuccinos, make a mocha for Tonja, and make sure to utilize the oversized mugs we never think we’ll pull out of the cupboard. Needless to say, my sister’s milk is all gone. Fast forward to this evening.

Tonja, Piet, Ruth, and I go to Trivia at Ol’ Peculiar in Ballard (which sucks because the guys there are making it way too obscure and hard, except for the Simpsons category where I bemoan Johnny’s absence). After opening a tab for a pitcher of beer and dinner, I help our team lose just enough to only win us a Claudia Schiffer WorkOut Video. Damn them for knowing I need faster ways to tighter buns. Trivia done, we head out and I note that the chilly Seattle weather feels a bit cozier with a couple beers in you.

Piet and Tonja drop me off at home, my sister schools me on how to properly clean the steamer on the machine (because I apparently left the last of the milk on the steamer rod), and then I break the news that I didn’t get a chance to pick up milk. Seeing that I had overreacted to being scolded about my clean up job, I tell her I will run out and get milk now. This seems very generous of me considering it’s almost midnight, but really I just keep thinking of that cappuccino I want to have in the morning which can’t happen unless I cart my little booty to the store. No problem, the store is a mere ten blocks away.

When I get up to the counter with my gallon of 2% (because it’s better to have some fat in your coffee drinks), and a six pack of Mirror Pond Pale Ale for my sister as a peace offering, I realize that I don’t have my Debit Card. The one I plopped down at Trivia. I use my credit card, jump back in my car with my classy gallon of milk and six pack of beer, and head back to the bar. In Ballard. For those who don’t know, Capitol Hill is not close to Ballard. At least not to me.

For those who do know Seattle, I take the I-5 exit to 50th and as usual there is a homeless man begging for money with his hat out. I ignore his glances, as is the typical reaction, but then as I am averting my eyes I catch sight of my beer on the floor of the passenger seat. After a few thoughtful moments (and checking the timing on the stoplights) I pick up a nice cold beer, roll down my window, and hold it out for him. He scurries over, takes it and wishes me a happy holidays (which is so PC of him). I return the sentiment and the lights change at that moment, which was my plan because we all know about the awkward wait after handing over change to a begger and then having to sit at the stoplight next to them for another couple minutes.

What is funny is how often we ridicule the homeless for begging because we assume they will spend the money on booze. Yet, when I saw my beer all I could think of was “This guy needs a little beer to warm him up.” I think I was right. Besides, when it comes down to it, I’m unemployed and running out of money so a beer represents what I could have given him if I hadn’t bought the beer, but also a bit of camaraderie. (Please don’t insert ridicule for how different our situations are. Just accept that sharing a beer can tear down those divisions.)

So tomorrow morning my sister will awaken to a gallon of milk and a 5 pack of beer, and I feel all the better for it.