The Montlake Dump Incident

[from 5/29/09]

I've decided to regurgitate a story from my distant past. The story is one I call "The Montlake Dump Incident," and it's topical today only because a black bear, AKA The Urban Phantom, has been sighted in and around Seattle recently.

In the 80s the urban phantom near the University Village was at least one coyote. In one particular period of that decade I was starving. I was homeless off and on. I almost resorted to dumpster-diving to eat. I dropped 25 pounds in one month. The same 3 cents, over and over again, stared up at me for one week, every time I checked the contents of my pocket. Hunger took me for late night walks of desperation. One night at 3 AM I spotted a coyote doing his rounds twenty feet from me, and he spotted me, and we had a great stare-down.

Just about that time I was rescued from further weight-loss by a man I'll call Sunday. Sunday bought me sandwiches at a sandwich shop. In return all I had to do was endure digs at my impiety. If only I embraced Sunday's religion as tightly as he did, he implied, I could be as fat as he was. If only I adopted his spiritual outlook, he implied, my lap would also runneth over my belt, and I would find the spare change it takes to buy sandwiches for heathens steeped in sin. Oh, yeah, and I also had to put up with him telling me I was full of it, as there are no coyotes in the Seattle City limits. If there were he would have seen one, he said.

Probably thousands of Seattleites are right now saying, similarly, "Black bear? What black bear? Why haven't I seen a black bear?" Well, maybe your lifestyle doesn't take you to where the bear's lifestyle takes him. Maybe you should try dumpster-diving at 3 AM. Carry a flashlight.

In Sunday's case, I told him that and he said he still wouldn't believe me, because "seeing is believing." This worked for a while, until his mini-sermons accompanying each sandwich began to grate. I asked him the fateful question, "Have you seen God with your own two eyes?" He said, no, but he'd read about Him in His book. So I asked, are you waiting for the coyote to write a book?

Ha, ha, no, I didn't say that. Instead, I went out for a 3 hour walk around the Montlake Dump area. I spent most of the time thinking, 1) "Sunday is a hypocritical, patronizing twit," 2) "Turkey and melted cheddar sandwiches with secret sauce are mighty fine," and 3) "I did too see a damned coyote."

As I was finishing the last few blocks of the walk and returning to the sandwich shop, I could see Sunday's car in the parking lot, and I knew what I had to do.

I had money for coffee. I got some and sat down next to Sunday. He asked where I'd been for the 3 hours. I told him I had seen Jesus.

In fact, Jesus had arrived blowing his own trumpet, driving a VW bus, and gathering the righteous to haul up to Heaven, and I'd spent two hours riding in his bus while he collected other homeless night wanderers like me around the area, I said.

I said I would have gone to Heaven with the rest of the guys but we encountered the coyote, and I insisted Jesus take him. But Jesus said there wasn't that much room. "Oh, Heck," He said, "I need someone to hang back anyway to tell folks I came. Want to volunteer?" And I said, "Sure," and the coyote took my place. Or that's what I told Sunday.

Sunday immediately informed me I would be receiving no more free sandwiches. The word he used was "incorrigible." I said I didn't need correcting about the coyote! I DID see him! Oh well, goodbye, turkey and melted cheddar.