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Displaced Texan Chronicles: Birkenstocks & Water Bottles

Displaced Texan Chronicles: Birkenstocks & Water Bottles

Things have been going great here lately in Seattle (read: I’ve spent the past three weeks traveling and haven’t had to be here) and just when I thought that perhaps I might be wrong about this place, it reared its two-tailed Starbucks mermaid thing head at me.

As of late, I’ve found it to be much more convenient to wake up around 4:30 and knock out my workout rather than trying to play dodge the cars after work when I head out and run with my husky. [Quick side note: I’ve had literally 30+ people ask me what kind of dog my husky is, and the mascot of the school in Seattle is – you guessed it – a husky.] If I was out running with my pet Longhorn in Austin, I don’t think there would be any confusion as to what type of animal it was, but that’s somehow a thing here in Seattle. I digress.

I would honestly say that the best part of waking up that early is getting to catch the sunrise as it comes up through the pine trees and over Lake Washington. Seattle really is a very beautiful place and that is on full display early in the morning when I don’t have to deal with interacting with the majority of the population.

Anyway. With the waking up early and doing cardio thing, I’ve had to increase my water intake earlier in the day. No big deal, I just grab an extra water bottle or two before I head into work. This morning, however, as I was walking into work drinking out of said water bottle with my headphones in, I felt a tap on my shoulder.

I quickly turned because who in the fuck touches a stranger in a city of millions unless Boko the Bobcat is loose again?

As I turned around to face the guy, little to my surprise, he was wearing Birkenstocks straight out of the Duda collection. Willing to give this guy the benefit of the doubt strictly because Duda wears these and is a good dude I gave the guy a quick, “What’s up, man?”

“Do you know how many animals die a year because of plastic water bottles?”

“Four.”

“Ha, very funny. Thousands, if not millions of animal die each year because people like you just throw these bottles on the ground for animals to get caught in and ingest.”

“I’m literally holding it in my hand and I didn’t throw it on the ground.”

“The point still stands, Marlboro Man.”

“That’s funny coming from a dude who is wearing a shoe made of animal hide.”

“These aren’t made of animal hide, they’re made of leather.”

*blank stare*

“You know that leather is made of animal hides, right? My boots and your shoes both are products of animal skin.”

“No, they are not.”

“Alright man, hang on. Let’s settle this right now. Google ‘what is leather made of.’ I’ll wait.”

I stood and waited as 30 seconds go by and I watch his face turn from anger to sheer humiliation and depression. He looks up at me clearly a distraught mess.

“I had no idea.”

“Don’t worry about it, man. If it makes you feel any better, I ate quite a few different animal byproducts for dinner last night and I ate Wilbur from Charlotte’s Web on my breakfast sandwich this morning,” I remarked as I threw my headphones in and kept walking to work.

Do I feel bad that I likely wrecked this dude’s entire world and existence? Honestly, kind of. There is something to be said for willful ignorance about what takes place in the world today and I stripped this hipster thing of his innocence. If I ever see that guy again I’ll be sure to treat him to a nice steak dinner or burger to make amends.

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Kiawah Island Strip Club

I'd rather be golfing. Seattle sucks so I write about that. Also work...ish in recruiting. Shoot your resume to kiawahislandstripclub@gmail.com for any and all job hunt questions.

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