The Rule of Thirds

Three different people stopped me to ask questions on my walk to work today.

The first was a drive-by ask on SW Park. A guy driving a truck stopped in the middle of the road and yelled, “Burnside?” at me. Despite his lack of forward motion, he seemed to be in quite a hurry.

I didn’t waste words. “Turn left,” I said.

The second was a walk-by ask. A homeless dude asked me for a light as we crossed by each other on SW King. He was holding what I can only assume was a cigarette, but might have been something else entirely. It certainly wasn’t machine rolled if you catch my meaning.

“I don’t smoke,” I said.

The third was a stationary ask. I had stepped off the MAX train and walked around behind it to cross 1st Street. As I stepped onto the curb, a young woman, wearing a white hoodie and a diamond chip in her nose, pushed a paper at me. She pointed at some yellow highlighted text. “Where is this? Is that the SmartPark garage?” She pointed at the building on the other side of the street I had just crossed.

I looked at the text. “Yes,” I said. “The entrance is right over there by that guy in the green shirt, I think.” I pointed at a guy walking towards us on Davis.

She thanked me and we separated to cross the streets we had to cross, she 1st and me Davis. As I walked along toward the office, I realized I might have steered her wrong. The entrance she needed was on 1st, behind the MAX stop, not on Davis, near the parking entrance. “Ah fuck it”, I thought. “She’ll find it now.”

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