That’s what you say when you’re meeting someone at the Pike Place Market…you know, in all the movies about Seattle, the farmer’s market where they’re throwing the fish around? Sometimes people who live here go there too. Here’s how:
Get on the bus. Bring a your boyfriend’s copy of The Stranger with you, and have a mercifully unevenful ride downtown. Get off at the second bus tunnel stop and walk on down towards the water. Pass Sur La Table, which apparently is employing a large vacuum inside. Get sucked in. look at madeline pans. Look at silicone covered balloon whisks. Look at dishes in the shape of cabbage leaves. Begin, literally, to drool, because you are hungry and the sight of all these cooking implements is reminding you of food.
Buy the latest Real Change from a very nice lady standing by the garden store. Listen to the Ecuadorean music players playing their flutes.
Lean on the pig…a big bronze statue in the middle of the market…and read your Real Change. Remain, for a moment, unsure if you should do so, not wanting to get in the way of any photo ops; decide people will let you know if you are about to be included in their Our Trip To Seattle photo album.
Be surprised by Your Friend Mark. Tell him you are very hungry as a result of having browsed in the trendy kitchen goods store. Walk by the original Starbucks store and comprehend more fully why they changed the logo from a naked mermaid with nipples with two scaly legs thrown over her shoulders to a more sedate and modest, nipple-less, one-tailed mermaid with no salacious designs whatsoever. Reflect on the creative ramifications of franchise.
Sit down at very cute French cafe. Eat a quiche surely cooked up in heaven’s kitchen for you alone. Talk with Your Friend Mark about mutual acquaintainces; the place of love vs. the place of work in one’s life; the fact that last weekend was your fifth-year college reunion (to which you did not go); the fact that you are, in fact, quite done with college; the fact that he, in fact, is quite done with college, though he has been out for only two short years; the fact that you do not yet have a job; his graduate program; Mark’s plan to learn how to bake sourdough and your willingness to unload any extra loaves he may find on his hands. Eat your last bit of quiche regretfully, knowing you will never have anything that good in your mouth again.
Learn The Ways of the Market, from Your Friend Mark, who surely ought to know. Walk by the guys who throw fish, remarking, as you always do, that there must be some sort of law about how only really cute boys can work there. Notice that there is an octopus on sale. Feel sad for the octopus. Assure Mark that the Flapping Fish Fin Incident was the only blot on his otherwise flawless dinner party a couple of weeks ago Go into De Laurenti’s and gape at all the pretty, pretty food. Notice the bulk polenta section. Introduce Your Friend Mark both to amarettini cookies and to Baci candy. Look at all the gorgeous tulips at the flower-sellers; admire especially the tulips that are so purple they are almost black.
Buy sausage for dinner tonight from a Munich-certified Master Sausuage Maker with, yes, a handlebar mustache and a heavy German accent. Taste the cranberry brats and hold yourself back from yelling, ‘I’ll take everything you’ve got!” Walk by a bakery which, Mark reliably informs you, only uses three ingredients: sugar, fat, and sugar. Say: “That’s my Holy Trinity, baby.” Laugh at yourself…that was pretty funny! Go down to the second level and spend some time flipping through reproductions of old posters and prints and ads from the thirties, forties, and fifties…show Your Friend Mark an ad that says “Science Is Improving Your Orange Juice!” which goes on to say that new advances in “wide-range and versatile” pesticide technology have “saved the crops” in “citrus-growing Florida,” bring fresh orange juice to all. Realize the ad is for DDT.
Walk towards the bus tunnel, enjoying the sun which has decided to make a rare appearance today. Clearly, the sun knows you are unemployed and could use a little cheering up. Discuss public transportation with Your Friend Mark. Wonder aloud if the monorail will ever be built. Say you wish there was a way to get to the airport without getting in a car. Be reminded of the WTO protests two and half years ago, when you were right in this area and you got pepper-sprayed. Discuss in detail which bus you are going to take, and once you’ve decided, and when a completely different but more efficient bus comes along that will take you home much faster, say a quick goodbye to Your Friend Mark and run for it, bag of sausage flying behind you. Look out the window all the way home.