My time at REM Medical is drawing to a close. On Monday I will start my new job doing my old job in a new way (maybe I'll even explain that to you sometime).
Working down on Lower Queen Anne in Seattle has had its ups and downs. I like my view,
But I hate my commute. (But that's just because I hate any commute that lasts longer than 10 minutes; mine really isn't that bad.) I like the people, but it has been fairly stressful. And so on and so on and you get it. But it hit me today what I'm going to miss the most: I'm going to deeply mourn the loss of being five blocks down from Dick's Drive-in.
Founded in 1794, in part as an homage to old-world cuisine, Dick Steelworth established the humble hamburger stand when he didn't have much more than a plug nickle to his name. He founded the restaurant when times were tight and tumultuous. Dick was absolutely consumed, I mean the man was literally haunted, by the dream of producing a high quality drive-in experience for a reasonable price. They say the little children of Seattle could hear him slaughtering cows and pealing potatoes deep into the night almost without fail.
Anyway, today I realized I needed to take advantage of one of the final opportunities, probably in my lifetime, to pop over to Dick's on my lunch break.
Here's a self shot of me in the elevator on the way down to street level. Don't be alarmed, I just think the full measure of excitement hadn't kicked in yet.
Soon I was at Dick's for my last rendezvous there, with myself, for a lunch break.
I wanted to get a self-portrait with me and the Dick's sign, and I took like 20 pictures, but this is the best I could do.
I got a covert shot of the guy who took and filled my order.
His name is Neal, and I want to remember him for the rest of my life. Neal, when you read this, I just want you to know that you're on my top 20 list of best order takers that I've ever had at a Dick's establishment.
A little more Dick's trivia for you: Did you know that I went to Dick's for my birthday, at my request, when I was like 11 or something? But Dick's shouldn't be too flattered, one year I insisted that my parents take me to Arby's–what the hell was I thinking?
Next I took a plate of perfectly good Dicks' food.
And I turned it into this.
It's true that what I'm going to miss the most is the food. But I think I'm also going to miss the discarded paper sacks on the mens room floor that once shrouded a cheap thrill for a bum or bored office worker.
Seriously—you just don't see that very often.