Friday dawns sunny. I'm in Seattle while the weather is uncharacteristically gorgeous: lots of sun, mild temperatures. More than once I'll be told that I brought beautiful weather with me up here. (Which is funny, for I'll later find out that the usual Seattle weather is taking place back home across the continent.)
This is the view from my hotel room, on the fourth floor of the airport Doubletree. I have a balcony that looks out across the road to the airport. There's still a Northwest Airlines logo on the big maintenance hangar. (Wonder how much longer that sign will be there?) This was actually taken the next morning, but that doesn't matter; the view was the same.
I'm early getting downstairs to meet my friend for breakfast. Interweb access costs in the room (and requires plugging the computer into a line), but wi-fi is free in the lobby. I sit by the fireplace and catch up on everything. I'd missed the previous night's 30 Rock finale, so I'm downloading it on iTunes and have only a few moments to go when my friend materializes. He snags a table in the restaurant and I join him when the download finishes. He hits the buffet, while I (buffet-averse, OCD-consumed germophobe as I am) opt for a waffle loaded down with strawberries and cream. Good stuff.
Today's adventures take place in the realm of commerce. We start the day with a visit downtown to Pike Place Market. It's a very popular destination, being right near the waterfront and everything. You can't see a television show about Seattle without seeing two landmarks: the Space Needle and the big sign saying "Public Market." So we park the car and begin the journey. Imagine a shopping mall crossed with a jockey lot/flea market, housed in a collection of interconnected buildings, and you have it. There are lots of eccentric little shops there. And there's also a large market area where you can buy all kinds of seafood, produce, pasta, you name it.
The good, and bad, part of it all is that it's so busy. It's absolutely crammed with people, and it's not difficult to tell which ones are tourists. Some of them have the compulsion to have their photos taken in the strangest places, too, and that creates quite the logjam for those trying to get past. On the other hand, if you can put up with the crush of humanity and inattention, you can find amazing things. If I lived nearer to Seattle, for instance, I could keep our kitchen stocked with some amazing pasta and some amazing candy. As it was, I made some purchases at one of a couple of really cool bookstores, sampled a chocolate-dipped, consciousness-altering maraschino cherry at a candy store, and coveted some (pricey) vintage posters at a paper goods store. (How would I get them home, anyway?)
Tucked beneath the rear of the Market is an antiques mall, and after the Market, we killed some time there. There is no shortage of vintage typewriters there, everything from old Royals and Remingtons to a serviceable Selectric III, and all reasonably priced. Towards the back was a huge collection of old magazines, and some vintage newspapers. I was sorely tempted by a collection of Seattle papers from the long, sad weekend in November 1963, only to realize that not only was the collection extensive (and likely expensive), but there were also papers from Miami there, too. I saw it becoming a trip down an expensive rabbit hole, so I passed. I hated to, but I saw it becoming a lot of trouble in a hurry.
After we got done there, it was over to Wallingford, and into the University District. It reminded me a lot of my graduate school days when I'd take little trips to Athens and hang out around the University of Georgia: lots of neat little shops and places to eat. We did some looking around in some shops located in a converted school building, then had a fine lunch at a neat Indian restaurant there. (I realized too late that I could have had a Kingfisher with my lunch! Oh, for shame...I let Force India down! Sorry, Vijay. I'll know better next time.)
A few clicks away from there was a neat little bookstore that reminded me of a favorite bookstore in Athens: rows upon rows of used and rare books, reasonably priced. Though I was restricting myself to books that I couldn't find elsewhere (or in a condition nicer or rarer than I could elsewhere, like finding a signed copy), I still managed to find some good deals at this bookstore. So did my friend. He'd already done some book shopping prior to my arrival, and on this visit to the bookstore, he added still more to his stash.
With that, the hour was growing later. We ended up stuck in rush-hour traffic heading back, and spent the creeping moments listening to some Todd Snider on the CD player. It was a transcendent experience. I was enjoying the trip, too. Normally I'm so focused on getting through a trip and getting back home that I treat it more as an endurance mission than as something to savor. This time, though, I kept reminding myself to enjoy it. You don't get to do this often. It was my first time in a new city I'd wanted to visit for a long time. Relax. Enjoy it.
Finally, we were back at the hotel. I stashed my goods, chilled out for a bit, and then joined my friend for dinner. It was room service again. The night before, I'd had the spinach avocado dip with pita bread, and it was pretty darn good. This night, though, I had the fettucine alfredo, which was truly transcendent. (Even if it meant riding the burp train to Sleepyville later that night.)
I came back to my room a couple hours later and opened the balcony door a little bit, letting the cool Pacific Northwest breeze blow in. The latent Alaskan in me was getting a little wistful, and though this wasn't Alaska, it was close enough to satisfy. I plopped down in the chair by the balcony door and unwound, watching the episode of 30 Rock on my computer, munching the two cookies I'd been given at check-in and having a Coke. Oh, man, life was so good. And the night of rest I got was good, too.
Little did I know how much it would come in handy.
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