Friday, September 25
J.R. and I headed into Seattle last night for drinks with some of my old Newsie friends. (Hey, when it's 3 a.m. and you're up putting together your college paper, you bond, people. And you name yourself after a classic, though little-seen, Christian Bale musical.) Bygones. We were to meet up at the White Horse, which neither of us had ever been to, but with Google Maps on our side, we were fearless. However. After walking up and down Post Alley, we still couldn't find it -- then J.R. pointed out a sign with a white horse on it. Foolishly, I had been looking for text, but I quickly learned that's not a good idea in the alley. After awesome conversation and some drinks, we moved on to dinner at the Pink Door, which as you may have guessed, has no sign. Just a pink door. That didn't matter because dinner was so fantastically delicious and my dessert so yummy, I was ready to cede that words really don't matter anymore.