You know things are
going swimmingly when TSA pulls you aside to do a search of your bag.
It's a good thing that I don't really take much stock in portents and
auspices, because that would have cast a rather dim pall on the trip
to come. And I had been looking forward to seeing Seattle for so
many years. Now I was going with a couple of friends.
Yes Seattle. For
some reason that frontier town holds a special place in my
imagination. I dreamed of moving there for a long time. It could
one day happen. Only everything about reality stands in my way. But
at the very least I wanted to go back West.
TSA pulled me aside
and started digging through my bag. I had been asked if I had food,
and replied in the affirmative. I had picked up a bag of Granola,
under the assumption that I might run into some hippies and need a
peace offering. I suppose that it was the Granola that tripped their
alarms. Maybe they thought to find some of the sweet ganja as well,
and “confiscate it for evidence.”
No dice.
The rest of the
flight out was uneventful. We left early evening Eastern time and
arrived on the West Coast late at night, only too relieved to crash
in our ghetto hotel room with a stain that heavily resembled blood on
the carpet. That was the plan, the late arrival, not the ghetto
hotel room. Get there late, after a full day of work, and then enjoy
the first day of vacation without a jot of travel to grind us down.
I know this is going
to blow your mind, but Seattle was rainy as we arose the next
morning. A cold misty drizzle that I suspect is common for the
region. We broke fast at a nearby place called the Pancake Chef. I
think I had the Stuffed French Toast. I know it was delicious. I
would go back.
A note. Food will
probably come up frequently in this rambling odyssey that would make
Homer(Simpson) jealous. Food was as ever part of the reason to visit
these two(Seattle and Portland) west coast cities. But since I'm
lazy and am also writing 18 months after the trip, the details will
be fuzzy or missing as I try to recreate the facts. You have been
warned.
We jumped onto
Seattle's public transit, because fuck cars. I don't want to sit in
traffic, I want to see the scenery. And the train is a lot cheaper
way to get from point a to b, no gas or insurance or getting lost.
Though it does mean having to hoof it between stops. And Seattle is
not only rainy, but also tends to be on the Hilly side. Walking up
hills is for chumps. I spent a lot of time walking up hills.
The remainder of our
stay in Seattle was at a hotel a half a mile from the famed Space
Needle. Perfect location for a bunch of tourists, 2/3rds of whom had
never been to the city before. Though it meant only getting anything
like an in depth feel for that one small slice of town. Then again,
we were only in Seattle for like 3 days. Barely enough time to
scratch the surface of even one neighborhood.
Our first steps took
us out to the Fremont neighborhood. I don't know much about it,
hell, I've had to repeatedly look up the name between the first visit
and my writing this. So, go visit the wikipedia page.
Fremont is speckled
with sculptures, some of them fairly famous. And through our
wanderings we came across some of these examples. Who doesn't like a
neighborhood that randomly hosts a 16 foot tall Vladimir Lenin
statue? Probably quite a few people actually, as they yell
obscenities about dirty pinko commies. I found the statue amusing,
and was surprised that it was there. This one doesn't do his
research. But I did discover that the statue was purchased in
Czechoslovakia after the fall of the communist state by a Seattle
native, and then shipped back to Seattle, where he installed it.
After several moves, it resides about 3 blocks away from another
local landmark, the Fremont Troll(saw that too).
Iffin you have
$250,000.00 the statue could be yours. If I had that much money to
throw away, Lenin would be staying where he currently stands. To
continue the tradition of make-overs and new paint-jobs that he
regularly receives.
It was in Fremont
that I developed a delightful game, one that you should all play when
you travel. I call it Hey Adam, Go Stand Next to That! The rules of
the game are complex but I shall do my best to explain. Say you find
an object/person/bit of scenery/abstract concept that you wish to
take a photo of, but you also want to see how many times you can get
your friend to pose next to revolving cast of things, until they tell
you to go fuck yourself.
I got a good pic of
Adam and Lenin. All the better to blackmail him should he run for
public office. Hey Adam, Go Stand Next to That!
We found ourselves
at what my frumpy ass would describe as a Hippish Mexican restaurant
in Fremont, I think it was called El Camino. It had a pleasant
ambiance with an attractive hardwood interior. We were lead out onto
the porch to enjoy what had cleared out to be some rather nice
weather. I ordered a spicy sandwich, because I like spicy food.
Sadly being used to the concept of Midwest Spicy, I was broadsided by
a mac truck full of capsaicin. It was absolutely wonderful.
Back out on the
streets, we caught a bus and continued our wanderings. The bus took
us to the Capital Hill neighborhood, so that I might engage in the
single solid goal I had for the trip. You see, most of my plans for
the visit were rather nebulous see where the wind blows me type of
adventure. With a single exception.
This goal was to
find and visit the final resting place of one Bruce Lee. Yes, that
Bruce Lee. He was born and raised in Hong Kong, came to America and
somehow ended up buried in Seattle. I'm sure there is a rational
explanation and good story, but fuck that noise, I'm just gonna say
it's because of Aliens.
This may be a case
of TMI, but spicy food tends to cause an adverse reaction throughout
my innards. Think napalm enema.
The discontent
started while we were on the bus, which is NEVER a good omen. And it
lead me to the following meditation: Why the hell don't our cities
have public toilets? Waste evacuation is an activity that every
living creature on the planet engages in.
As well as a certain
kind of hurried shuffle that must have given me away as a maniac who
was on a mission. That mission was to locate some relief before I
ruined my own vacation with the magic words “I'll have that spicy
sandwich”. Which is going on my tombstone. Self-inflicted pain is
the best kind.
My companions used
their own brand of magic to locate relief. I believe that they
called their twin spells 'cell phone' and 'internet'. Whatever.
They pointed and I marched. They made jokes and I responded “Look
me compadres, I am going to soil myself in a most memorable fashion
if we don't get to some shelter soon.” They shut up and walked
faster. It was an uphill walk, meandering somewhere between one and
thirty-seven miles. The passage of time and space grows unreliable
when you're battling the clock. But alas, we finally arrived at my
salvation.
To the Seattle Asian
Art Museum, I offer my deepest thanks. If I were a praying man, you
would ever be remembered in scrolls of my internal monologue to my
deity. But I'm not. And I did evil in your restroom. So I bought a
ticket instead. And again I must thank you, for the beauty held
within. Were you a woman, I would ask for your hand in marriage.
But alas, you are not, you are a museum, so It can never be.
The Seattle Asian
Art Museum sits atop a hill, and I was greeted with a rather
beautiful view as I returned to the sunlight. More to the point, we
were right next to the cemetery in which his most notable self
resides.
Another round Hey
Adam, Go Stand Next to That! Netted me a picture of a rather peeved
looking Adam standing next to a large cottonwood tree. All as we
found the outer edges of our destination.
Here's where desire
to achieve a goal runs face first into a more powerful force. One
that I call “Ah Shit, I'm Sick of Walking.” I'm pretty sure that
it is a fundamental force of the universe, only slightly behind
Entrophy in overall effect, but with more regret. So I didn't
actually get to see the final resting place of Master Lee, but I did
see the graveyard in which he was interred.
That's something
right?
The walk back to the
hotel in the fading afternoon sunshine was long and winding. Stop
and go as we crossed streets and descended down out of the hills. We
passed by grand houses and cool neighborhoods. The two high points
that I recall from the trek were that of a graffitied road sign, most
impressive because it was hanging 20 feet over the highway. That
took an extra dose of frontier gumption that did.
The second sight was
somewhat simpler, a pretty girl wearing a Bungie Software shirt. Historically two of my favorite things. I
didn't talk to her. I tried not to stare, but I admired her as we
passed. Should I have passed her by while I was in college, nothing would have been different. As is my habit.
