I got the goods in Issaquah

"A guy told me one time, 'Don't let yourself get attached to any bagel you are not willing to walk out on in 30 seconds flat if you feel the heat around the corner.'"

Welcome to It’s A Shanda, one Northeastern Jew’s quest to find a decent bagel in Seattle (and beyond). Along with free bagel reviews every Sunday, we also offer bonus posts each Wednesday. If you’re already subscribed, I hope you’ll consider upgrading to a paid subscription! Thank you for reading.

On my way to pick up “the goods”

The text appeared Monday afternoon. The drop was confirmed for Wednesday at 10:00 a.m. in Issaquah. “Look for the black Ford Expedition.”

I arrived early at the agreed-upon nondescript parking garage. A drive around several times. No sign of my guy. Was this all a ruse? A sting operation? Was I walking into a trap?

I felt exposed. The feds could be closing in. Suddenly, a new text arrives. “I am five minutes away.” I park and wait.

I’ve paid good money for the items I’m here to procure. The word on the street is that this stuff is legit. Everyone wants a taste. But not everyone was quick enough to make the score. I was.

Five minutes later, another text. “I’m on the second floor.” It’s go-time.

I look to the stairs and see other people ascending ahead of me. I wonder who they are and if they know what they’re really here to get. I hurry to catch up. Reaching the second level, I see a small group forming a semicircle around an SUV. This is it. No turning back now.

As I approach, I see 15 people surrounding the Expedition. The back hatch is open. I see the bags that presumably hold the goods. We’ve all paid top dollar for what’s inside.

As our guy rummages through the vehicle, we wait. Staring. Wondering. One woman turns to another woman next to her. “Have you done this before?” she asks in a low voice. “No,” the other woman answers, nervously laughing.

We’re all kinds, those of us waiting in the cold. There’s a mom and daughter. There are some bros. An older couple. People dressed up for work. People dressed like they just woke up. There’s no rhyme or reason, only a deep and unwavering desire, nay, a need, for what’s inside those bags.

We will not be denied.

He starts asking for names. We all gave aliases (I presume). Can’t trust anyone in this game. The stakes are too high. He’d match the name to a bag and send each person off. There were more bags in the SUV than people waiting. Demand must be pretty high. I’m not surprised.

As some people get their bags and scurry away, new arrivals emerge. Time is short. I need what I came for, and I need it now.

I offer up a name and he returns from the car with a bag. He hands it to me. We smile, exchange pleasantries, and conclude our business. I check the bag and find what I came for inside. I absconded to my car quickly, in case the authorities were en route. I keep an eye out for a tail. Don’t see anything, but it doesn’t mean they’re not there. I race along I-90 back to Seattle. Back home.

I made it. I got the stuff. And this stuff…it’s 100% pure. It’s the good stuff.

As for what I procured at the drop, I’ll let paid subscribers know below. Otherwise, you’ll just have to wait until Sunday to find out.

SPOILER: They’re very good. See you Sunday.

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