As I waited to turn north on 4th on my way home, an odd-looking plane, banking in to Boeing Field, caught my eye. Never having seen one on approach to a dirt landing, the steeply-raked engines atop the wing fooled me into unknowing. The plane, a flying boat in U. S. Navy dress blue-and-gold, was almost certainly a restored PBY Catalina. Over a decade ago, that model of plane in similar livery flew an excursion service off the glassine surface of Lake Union. What a treat; I dearly love each glimpse of flying dinosaur I get and treasure each memory. My neck-craning gawkery at the stop sign led to the Seattle version of a Noo Yawk salute: somewhere behind me, someone politely ‘beep-beeped’ with the intent of guilting me off the cell phone, a faulty assumption.