At a Middle Eastern restaurant near the Pioneer Square. I had a pistachio baclava and this drink. Both were over priced and the baclava was smaller than it looks. But it was enough to shore me up until I reached the friends' house in Vancouver area probably by 5-6 PM.
My bus from the Seattle's King St Station to Vancouver, Canada. I think this is run by some Canadian company and the route is one of the rare ones included in the Amtrak's USA Rail Pass which I was using for this trip, to allow cross border as included route. The bus driver was not easy to understand being an immigrant but there was one guy who frequently takes this bus between Seattle and Vancouver and he did the translations for us when needed. The guy also kindly lent me his pen as I found out the pen I had been carrying was broken--you have to fill out an actual paper immigration/customs form.
As our bus just left the station at 1:30 PM, we saw a horrifying sight: A middle aged, plump guy was crossing a street in front of the bus's signal stop; I was in the very front behind the driver. We saw that guy fell on his face end of the crosswalk and was writhing in great pain. He was carrying a cardboard box which seemed full of printer paper. He was holding his jaw and kicking his legs and just convulsing. A woman was walking with him and she moved his stuff of the street and trying to talk to him. A couple of others walked by, looked and then walked away but the woman stayed with the guy. Then our bus turned to the left and we saw that no more. But I kept thinking that no one knows me in that faraway big region, that I was alone and those who do are barely known to me and I wouldn't want to inconvenience them anyway. I decided to be extra extra careful after that in everything.
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