After a community viewing of Jay’s losing—but smart and refined—competition on Jeopardy, I drove home and stopped by the ProClub for some cycling that I really should have done outside (I even had my road bike on the back of my car).
Later, driving down Broadway, just after passing the south end of Broadway Market and before the Vivace outpost, across from Bill & Ted’s Excellent Cafe Adventure, or whatever that Baskin-Robbins became, I heard a loud, sharp noise on my right. Had someone thrown something at my car? It was so loud, I wondered how it could have been a human-powered shot. Was it my shiny car with the gold “L” logo that had elicited the attack?
I turned the corner and pulled into the parking lot at WaMu to inspect the car, wondering how, if I found damage, I could do anything useful about catching the culprit. I scanned the right side of the car… no visible holes in the body… one dimple I already know about… tires are fine… no cracked glass. Huh. I got back in the car, and then I saw my attacker. The parking garage at the health club was quite warm, and an hour of sitting there had caused quite a bit of pressure to build up in the re-corked bottle of Duvel lying on the passenger seat. The cork was no longer in the bottle.
I held up the bottle while I wiped up the ale with my canvas bag from Trader Joe’s, and then realized how that might be perceived around here (the open container of alcohol in the hand of the driver). Canvas isn’t too absorbent, so I’ll be referring now to the car’s “ale skin” interior.