Senor Moose Again

Almosf ten years ago, on a work trip from Hong Kong to Bellevue, I went on a sort-of-blind-date in Seattle with a friend of a friend. We went to a Mexican restaurant called Senor Moose, and then to a club where Miss Mamie Lavona The Exotic Mulatta And Her White Boy Band played some kind of anachronistic jazz. And then she dropped me back to my hotel and I never saw her again.
Today, fancying some Mexican, and unable to decide between Chupacabra or somewhere with Oaxaca in the title, I saw Senor Moose on a list of nearby restaurants, and so that decided it for me. When I got there, it felt vaguely familiar, in that there was a bar, and food, but I really couldn’t say if I’d ever been there before or not. (It’s been in the same place for 15 years, or so the staff said, and unless there’s a vast conspiracy to mess with my head, you have to believe them.)

I had mushrooms and beans and rice, and guacamole with freshly cooked, still hot chips, and a beer, and then (possibly because we went climbing this morning at a place called Stone Gardens where everything seemed to be impossibly difficult roof or mantle problems) I was quite tired, and even a trip to a boardgames cafe couldn’t revive me. Did find a terrible sounding game called Red Flags though.

Then we walked back to my friend’s house, where I’m staying this week, detouring to go to a vegan ice cream shop, and shortly after to bed. Night night all, so much for deja vu or never being able to go back.

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