While killing time downtown the other day, I wandered over to Belltown to peek in the window of Mama’s Mexican Kitchen. As always, the place was packed.

About 15 years ago I was a busboy at Mama’s. I lived in an artists collective across the street. I paid $200 a month for a room in this huge warehouse space above the Rendezvous. One night Mudhoney played the Rendezvous stage and it shook the water in my bathtub. Pearl Jam rehearsed in the basement space downstairs from me. There was so much music and energy in the neighborhood at that time. I met amazing creative people who were pursuing music and art in some way or another. In a lot of ways Mama’s was the hub for me. It’s where I worked and socialized with friends. So many strong emotions and memories are wrapped up in that place. It was odd to see how nothing about it had changed, the same music and food, and the same walls filled with altars revering Mother Mary and Elvis Presley. The only difference really were the people. There was nobody there I recognized. I felt so alien to the place. I felt a little like a ghost. I started to snap a picture of the restaurant and somebody called out my name. I looked over to see Fred, one of my old friends from back in the day, eating at one of the outdoor tables. He looked fantastic. Also, it was a welcome relief to see a familiar face. After catching up a little, I snapped this picture of him, and I started to feel like a living human being again.

Fred at Mama’s Mexican Kitchen in Belltown (Seattle, Washington)