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Out of context: Reply #72731
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I saw a hit and run last night.
Giannis' post-championship Chic-Fil-A meal (50 piece and and a half lemonade, half sprite suicide) was hilarious, so the gf and I decided to scrap dinner plans and go to CFA. It's our guilty pleasure, fuck it.
Our CFA is really out of place, stuck in a notorious part of Seattle that's on a narrow four lanes of chaos lined with shit motels, dive bars, and an entire zone where cops turn a blind eye to sex workers.
Just driving there you are guaranteed to see at least a dozen half-naked women right on the sidewalk, and you will get flashed and mooned. There's also plenty of screaming junkies and some general gangery going on there.
Bored and sitting in the drive-thru that is always good for 10 minutes of traffic jam that extends out into all of this chaos, I glance over into the sideview mirror and see a motorcycle flying through the intersection, breaking into pieces, followed shortly by a man doing his best impersonation of said motorcycle.
Eventually the motorcycle dude comes back into frame, runs up to an SUV and starts having a fit. The sex workers show up to rubberneck, the motorcycle dude looks around and books it, leaving his bike behind. By the time we get our food it's a shitshow of prostitutes and cops dragging the motorcycle out of traffic.
Dinner and a show. The lemonade / Sprite is pretty great.