Have you ever tried impersonating yourself? Have you ever ordered a drink while impersonating yourself after huffing helium from a stolen balloon? Wait-Wait! Let me back up because I’ve got a story and it’s a good one! It starts with celebratory shouting outside my apartment window. It’s 5:58 pm on a Saturday and I’m scheduled to interview Sean De Tore in two minutes. I’m frantically searching for my keys when I hear another indiscernible shout. I’m curious about the cause for celebration. I smile to myself, reflecting on my choice to live in the heart of Seattle’s Capitol Hill. In any metropolitan climate, there exists a certain surreptitious and indefinable energy that floats between the oxygen and the nitrogen, glides through the water vapor, and weaves between the argon and carbon dioxide. Sometimes we’re the ones who put it there. It’s 6:00 pm and I’m heading outside to step into this intoxicating nebula of urban energy. It’s time to meet with my interview subject.

Standing on the sidewalk, donning jeans, a green vest, and a tattered hat, is the offender of all the commotion. He’s shouting to the clouds and a 30-something man in a scholarly scarf is joining in. Slightly intrigued and slightly nervous, I walk up to the man in the vest, “Hi, Sean. What’s all the shouting about?” He introduces me to Jake Uitti, his cohort in the scarf; then he shrugs nonchalantly, “We’re getting pumped for the interview.” Well, this should be interesting!

Sean takes the lead toward his car while Jake follows, calling shotgun. I’m mentally scorning him for his lack of chivalry but soon learn it has a purpose when he props his iPhone on the dash, displaying a Youtube video. He jokes about the “mind-blowing” sound quality emanating from an iPhone propped on the dash of a 1985 Volvo station wagon. The songs of La Luz struggle to be heard over the rhythm of the road and my roaring laughter. Sean steers us toward White Center.

Centered in a neglected parking lot, boasting tattered signage and buzzing neon lights, Roxbury Lanes is ¼ bowling alley, ¼ arcade, ¼ sports bar, and ¼ shady casino. According to Jake, “It’s the perfect place for Sean.” After some quiet deliberation, we decide to start the interview off in the dusty bar over nachos, Yaki Soba, Kung Pow Chicken, and whiskey.

I first met Sean De Tore (“Dee Tor Eee,” not “DuhTore,” not “DayTore”) when he hosted a band I manage on his KIRO Radio podcast. Aptly named, The Mixtape, Sean interviews emerging artists in the local music scene. It was after he silenced the mic, that I turned the tables on him. I learned that his wit and creativity extends beyond the radio, lending itself to interesting and unusual hobbies like piñata-making and pun competitions. I implored Sean to let me interview the Interviewer and he suggested a “Drinks With” feature for The Monarch Review and that its founder and his friend, Jake, accompany us.

“I hope I don’t get some kind of weird intestinal parasite,” Sean looks at his plate of questionable chicken, the kind of food you eyeball before each bite.

“What I wanna know is how you two met,” I ask through a chuckle. Like me, Sean met Jake through a Mixtape podcast while featuring Jake’s band, The Glass Notes. This discovery prompts me to ask Sean if he often hangs out with people he interviews on his show.

“Some people see me as media, which is fine because I am, but I can also be a friend.” Sean alternates between sips of Rainier and whiskey before going on to explain that he’s often met with prefaced conversations. “I’ll have someone say, ‘I know you’re media but…’ as if the relationship can’t go anywhere if they talk to me.” He smirks, “And that’s how Jake’s secrets end up on the Internet.”

I suddenly spot a MegaTouch game at the other end of the bar and challenge Sean to a few rounds of music trivia. It’s clear the questions haven’t been updated since 1998, which means we’re pretty good at it. However, I am relatively shocked to learn that among Sean’s vast cerebral vault of music, there sits an empty shelf where Robert Johnson’s catalog should be. He’s never heard of him. I make a mental note to send him some tracks as we make our way to the adjoining casino.

The room is thick with the stench of stale cigarettes, though Seattle hasn’t permitted smoking in public places since 2005. The gamblers acknowledge us with quick and weary eyes before shifting attention back to their game, reminding me of ravenous lions hovering over fresh prey with no use for petty distractions, except to assess their surroundings. Having made our own assessment, we decide to take our interview somewhere less unsettling. Naturally we head to infamous Highway 99.

According to one Yelp Reviewer, Goldies Casino in Shoreline “Is an alcoholic’s paradise.” The drinks are cheap, the pour is strong, and there’s a comforting sense that the gambling is more recreational than habitual.  Adding to the spontaneity of the evening is the introduction of The Monarch Review’s cofounder, Caleb Thompson, who arrived by Uber to join in on this “Guy’s Night.” Caleb and I take a seat at a pub table while Sean and Jake favor a Spanish 21 table across the room. Given Caleb’s involvement in The Monarch, I know that he’s a writer. Given his unruly hair and restless eyes, I know that he’s eccentric. I’m reminded of the Ginsberg quote, “I really believe, or want to believe, really I am nuts, otherwise I’ll never be sane.” Desperately seeking a conversation starter, I bring up the subject of writing and the counterculture of the Beat Poets. “You know, I’m glad you brought that up,” he says, “Because I don’t really like them.”  Oh.

Caleb’s eyes dart around the room as if to keep up with the frantic speed of his thoughts. Unfortunately, I’m too hypnotized by the conviction with which he speaks to absorb any of his words. This man is so “wild eyed and high” on intellect that I wonder if he even knows what he’s saying. Eventually there’s a break and I’m struggling to fill the void again. I mention that I write poetry but that I rarely share it. “That’s probably a good thing,” he says. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?” He finally looks me in the eye, “Because it’s probably not any good.”  Oh.

After Sean pockets his $120 in winnings, he and Jake return to find me waiting to play a game of my own. So far this adventure has taught me that Sean is playful, slightly mischievous, and incredibly loyal to his friends. But I want to know more about what’s shaped his personality and I’m going to use the childhood game MASH to find out.  I pull out my notebook and pen, “Sean, what are your dream jobs?”

“Radio DJ or Teacher.”

“Where would you want to live?”

“Sicily or Boston.”

“If you could interview anyone on the radio, who would it be?”

My presumptive pen is ready to write the name of the latest Seattle band crush, but Sean stops it before hitting the page when he replies, “My parents.”

After a few more drinks and belting some impromptu Christopher Cross (his guilty pleasure), Sean asks, “What’s next?” What’s next?! It’s 1:30 AM! But Sean’s not having any of that so we all pile into the car, and I claim the role of Designated Driver. We make our way to Teddy’s Bar in Roosevelt.

I’m just shifting the car into park when Caleb reaches for the door handle like an impatient host. Those restless eyes have spotted balloons. When the owners of the East West Bookshop were patiently hanging balloons above their entryway, I doubt they envisioned a lithe figure reaching up to pluck them like a handful of prized cherries. But that’s what Caleb does. And then he unties their knots and inhales. He passes them to Jake as we walk.

The bartender at Teddy’s Bar greets us with a friendly smile that quickly turns to an amused grin when Sean takes a huff from all 3 balloons and orders a round of Blue Moon in a squeaky voice. He takes another huff and does a remarkable impression of himself introducing The Mixtape show. “Hi, this is Sean DeTore and you’re listening to The Mixtape.” He pays with his hard earned casino cash and I resume the “interview.”

I ask Sean about one of his favorite moments in life and am surprised to learn that the genie in the bottle, the granter of Sean’s adolescent wish is standing in the room. Jake set Sean up with the opportunity to interview Nirvana’s original drummer, Chad Channing for “A Drinks With” feature.  Chad’s only stipulation was that they not talk about Nirvana. Through another huff of helium, Sean says, “So I decided I would approach Chad like this, ‘I know you don’t want to talk about Nirvana, but why don’t you want to talk about Nirvana?’” His voice returns to normal. “If I knew when I was 14 that’d I’d get to meet Chad Channing, I would’ve been so stoked!” And with that, the bartender shouts, “Last call!”

Our eight-hour interview is over and as we walk back to the car, I’m reflecting on the successes in Sean’s life thus far. Sometimes you land your dream job. Sometimes you meet your childhood hero. Sometimes you win the bet against the odds. Sometimes you’re the intoxicated nebula floating through the oxygen and the nitrogen, gliding through the water vapor, and weaving through the argon and carbon dioxide while huffing helium from a stolen balloon.