I had left a small town, and my parents home, to live in "the big city." I had friends in the city, and they assured me of the great value of living in the city. So I enjoyed their company for the following five plus years. Sure, I would visit that Wal-mart intoxicated, somewhat naive to the "real" world town of thirty-two thousand. I would ensure that my new found home of Seattle, would serve me better in the long run. I experienced the good and the bad in this city, but mostly the good life; if there is such a thing.
So here I was, venturing into a Metropolis of three-some million. The city was nicknamed "The Emerald City". No person could ever truly understand that nickname until you live there. in the 19th century, and I am sure before, jewelers used the term "water" to describe a colored crystal; or Emerald. If you do not know the annual rainfall of Seattle, and the surrounding area, you live in a hole, or Korea. It rains, at any given point every month for at least nine months. No wonder the suicide rate is quite high.
I knew maybe ten people who lived in the city. Of those 10, maybe four of them would become close acquaintances. Of those four, two would become good, close, lovely, exciting, booze buddies. One more of the four was Jordan the Jew.
Jordan the Jew was a friend from back in the small, hay-town from which I came. Jordan the Jew is a ten page story himself. I will say, he was friendly enough to allow me to live my first month with him in a highly Jewish neighborhood of Seattle.
Next time... Jordan the Jew, Bikes, Gemma, and Pabst Blue Ribbon.
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