Characters I Have Known: Limping Briefcase Man

People watching has always been a favorite past time of mine. Most of my days in school were spent people-watching. Kindergarten was the beginning. Oh, the characters. Children now , in regards to people watching, are a ho-hum, seen them all. Adults still fascinate me, even though most can be traced right back to the character types of my school days, but those ones who don't "make sense" to me---fascinating. This is the story of one such person.

The apartment building I lived in was huge, taking up almost an entire city block. It faced the Space Needle and Elliot Bay. It was close enough to downtown Seattle that in my pre-MS days I could easily walk to work. The entire side of our apt. was all windows, great view, and people walking beneath us didn't even know we were there. It used to be just a retail building and the first floor of apts. were two stories up, all that the passersby saw were bricks and tree tops. In other words, a magical place to see and not be seen. From this vantage point is where I first saw him.

He passed by at the same time every day, about 5AM. He walked with great difficulty, limping, stopping, over and over, heaving his body up on one side as if it were dead weight. It could take him 30 minutes to pass my view, often he sat on the short brick wall that surrounded the Anhalt building across the street, to take a rest.

His clothes were always askew and they were always a dark suit, dark tie, white shirt, dark shoes. Even during the hottest summer day, that is what he wore, in the rain, in the snow, that is what he wore. And he carried a black briefcase. He looked to be around 60 years old, give or take 10 years. He had white skin and jet black, slicked down thin hair, cut above the collar. His shirt was not always buttoned, his hair not always combed back, his pants were usually wrinkled and on the verge of falling right off. His tie was never tied correctly---a man askew in all ways.
He spoke to no one if passed. Every day at 6PM he returned from the direction he had headed, Monday-Friday. I never saw him anywhere else in the area on the weekends. This went on for at least a year, until I couldn't take it anymore, I had to follow him.

His schedule conflicted with MY schedule, so on a day off I followed him. Never realized how hard it was to follow someone who moves so slow! Hanging back was not a good option because of how the streets wind around, turn like "L"s, and in the midst of residential houses and apt. buildings might be a dentist or steps up to a small psychic clinic---very strange neighborhood. Besides, while he spoke to no one, it seemed everyone spoke to me! The gay heart of the city with senior low-income housing, student studio units, old money rich people, you name it and Capitol Hill has it, all very friendly. For the largest population density in Seattle, it was a tightly knit community of neighbors on Harvard Avenue. Rudely passing someone without a nod or smile was not an option. Engaging in small talk was the norm. This was in the early 1990's. Point is, I lost him! Where did he go? What side street did he turn down? Which house, apt., or building did he enter?

Of course my partner thought I was crazy to pursue this hunt. She had watched him pass a few times and that was enough for her. I don't blame her. She has put up with my stalking about all hours of the early morning in search of strange people, HEY, the truth is out there. Capitol Hill was a juicy watermelon, full of seedy people, just waiting to be cut open, how could I resist!?

Anyway, MS took a stronger hold of me and my stealth snooping came to an end. I became the strange person I once might want to know. Over the years, I would glimpse the limping, briefcase carrying man who seemed about ready to fall over dead with each step, but I would just look away. A mystery never to be solved. Then I got ovarian cancer. Eight boring weeks off work after the first surgery, spent in the beginning sitting on my balcony watching people pass by. There he was, right on time. I felt better by week four than I had in years and my MS even was working on a nice remission. "Yes, dear, I promise I'll just sit home and relax until you return from work." This was my chance! I would focus and stay closer, he would NOT slip away this time! "Good bye, my love, have a nice day!" (Yes we really do talk this way, even now, after 32 years. Corny? Perhaps, but it is more the theatrical inside us. In front of others we appear cold, I think, this romance has turned many off.) Wait for it, wait for it...she is at her bus stop by now---OFF I GO!

Since I had followed him before to a certain corner, I chose a spot ahead of that area to wait for him. Right on schedule he appeared though watching him slowly make his way towards me I doubted he would make it much farther. As he passed by the woman with a cane, sitting on porch step, he never looked up, his eyes focused sharply on the sidewalk. I saw his face clearer, it was dirty, but pure, as if a good wash would leave him looking 30. But his thinning hair, hunching back, and a suit that looked like a Salvation Army reject spoke even louder than his shoes which appeared to have traveled to Maine and back, visible holes and all. His hair was not slicked down by anything but natural head oil from months of uncleaned head exposure. He kept on walking. I followed him this time to a main drag bus stop. He could have taken a seat there, but he stood, leaning to one side. I took a seat and watched him get on a bus headed for downtown Seattle. My surgery area was starting to pain me, drat. Time for me to head home.

Life continued on for me, another surgery after just a few weeks when a new growth was spotted. Drat. I was dying to get back to my job. My focus was on that, my job had changed drastically during my absence---the city had moved headquarters to a new 62 story building, my dept., Light, was merging with Water. I had to buy a scooter to take me around such a huge new building. My life was changing fast and my MS was getting worse. I became very adept at getting around Seattle in my scooter. I knew all the secret short cuts through buildings, and that is where I saw him one day.

He was inside a fancy downtown building, the 1111 (Eleven Eleven) building, sitting in the lobby with his briefcase on the floor by his side. He looked exactly as he always had. Just sitting there staring straight ahead at nothing in particular, as hundreds of people passed by on their way to and from work. It was about 10AM. After my two hour meeting in another building, after I had eaten lunch, about 2PM, there he was, same spot.

Later that day, after I was home, there he was limping his return trip...same time as always. What I will remember most about him is how content he seemed in his daily ritual. He always had the air of a man with a purpose. Isn't that what we all want?