I needed a place to go sit and be creative...all the parking was taken where I wanted to go, so I went to the place closest to where I had to be in an hour... The Cuff, a gay leather bar in Seattle.
I sat down to draw and write and, I didn't even order my drink before, "Is this seat taken?" He looked like a decent chap so I said no. He was nice. A flautist with a cowboy hat. He confessed that he used to be a clarinetist (I wasn't aware that this required a confession) but got sick of broken reeds and such. So he switched to the flute. No reeds, he said, you just blow.
By the way...if for no other reason than that the blogger frames don't seem to work right in it, Netscape 6 eats my ass.