There’s this dingy old hotel in the International District of Seattle. It’s the sort of place you’d use for a sordid tryst or maybe to meet your Tong contact to complete a heroin deal. As you walk up Jackson from the train station you can see the side of the building. Painted on there in big letters is the following: “Bush Hotel. Modern. Fireproof.” It is perfectly clear that the Bush Hotel is neither modern nor fireproof. I find this entirely appropriate.