Belltown Pub and My Fabulous Brother

24 Oct

You know you’re growing up when your brother is turning 29 and you celebrate the evening together in the clutches of fun coworkers at a fancy (ish) pub in Seattle. Well, I guess if you’re Matt you know you’re growing up anyway, because promptly after arriving I got too many drinks to warrant me driving at all that night and he was immediately dubbed the designated driver. On his birthday. Because I’m an asshole. So, Matt, I’m sorry, and I promise on MY 29th birthday, you can totally be me for the night and I’ll drive your drunken ass home.

It’s always a weird treat to spend a night on the town in Seattle, because even though I grew up mere minutes away I’ve never lived very close as an of-age adult. Day trips are practically memorized routines since I spent so many weekends sightseeing via the city bus or walking around neighborhoods hoping that my awkward 15-year old self looked cool in my homemade necklaces and thrift store nightgowns-turned-dresses. But the nightlife is a totally different ball game, and it’s unfamiliar and overwhelming and horrendously entertaining. I’m so used to seeing the same faces around town, who, even if I don’t recognize the person, they seem familiar in a sense because theres a 75% chance that someone near me knows something about them… is that weird? But last night we were seated against a floor-to-ceiling window at the entrance that allowed me a view of every pedestrian passerby, most of whom quickly became the topic of conversation.

Did you know that guys wear glitter and rhinestones on their shirts now? I was unaware of this fad.

Did you know that approximately 95% of guys in Belltown wear newsboy caps and approximately 100% wear tasteful long black jackets?

And the number of girls I saw last night in 4-inch spiky heels looking as though their ankles were about to give out exceeded the number of girls in said heels I’ve perhaps ever seen in my entire life. They look like pterodactyls! It is terrifying! And they travel in herds!

I felt like such a country bumpkin, trotting along to keep up with my brother as I exclaimed,




It’s like I’d lived in a box for the last 22 years, Jesus Christ. My poor brother.

Luckily he didn’t have to endure too much of that since the walk from the car was short and soon we were sitting in Belltown Pub and I was excitedly asking the man sitting across from me about tipping etiquette and sharing horror stories of the service industry (he was a friend of my brother who works in a coffee shop downtown). I was delighted to describe in detail the goings on of my restaurant and commiserate with a fellow food service slave… so much that I think I talked every person’s ear off. Yikes.

In the birthday spirit we ordered a buttload of appetizers: French fries with tarter-esque and Sriracha-esque dipping sauces, smoked salmon tacos, mac and cheese gratin, and crab cakes. Over our food we rapidly discussed some finer details of food, such as what differentiates a graham cracker from being a graham cookie (I firmly stood my ground that a cracker can be soft and sweet, while others argued otherwise) and, what’s up with those weirdly flavored chips that the rest of the world eats? Ketchup chips? Shrimp chips? And how do you feel about chips dipped in sour cream? Isn’t that sort of a stoner thing, or can non-smokers enjoy it as well? These are serious questions that must be considered. On the topic of weird food combinations, Matt brought up green apple and bacon, which gave me some good ideas… yes, good ideas are indeed festering in this little brain of mine and I’m thinking of a panini. A panini with bacon, green apple, gorgonzola aioli, onion, and mozzerella. Not tonight, since my fridge is stocked to the brim with leftovers of homemade chicken noodle soup, eggplant parmesan pasta, and some prawn Pad Thai that my dad treated me to today. Maybe tomorrow… if the Copper Hog’s industry night doesn’t snatch me away from another home-cooked meal, anyway.

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