When I awoke in the morning, I noticed two things. The first was that the bed I was sleeping in was absolutely ginormous. It had six pillows upon it and was as wide as it was long—which was very. You could comfortably fit a family of four in it. The second thing I noticed was that the light switches were about 10cm below where I expected them to be.
You may ask why I couldn't locate them the night before. You see, I have discovered that the W Seattle not only has an annoying Flash website, but also caters to a very specific demographic. Namely twenty-something men who have too much money and too few morals. And to accomodate this, the hallways were very poorly lit so that girls coming up from the bar downstairs wouldn't be recognised. In the room, there was plenty of alcohol, the furnishings oozed luxury, and everything cost boatloads of money. A morning glass of orange juice would set you back $5 USD.
I went with spider88 to a supermarket, called QFC. Which stands for Quality Food Centers. So I may not be a marketting genius, but that's a really dumb name. We walked through this store, with the biggest frozen food section I have ever seen, to pick up some things. As we were about to walk out, I noted that they were running a sale on artesian water. If you thought the spring water fad was yuppie, this is even worse. When I got back to my hotel room, I discovered a small bottle of the stuff costs $8.
I walked about Seattle with only a T-shirt underneath my coat. It was wonderfully warm and the sky even humoured me with a couple of sunny breaks. A man driving a van labelled "Seattle Express" kept on accosting me, probably because I looked like a tourist.
"You need a taxi? Where are you going?"
"Twelve dollars!"
"I swear to my god, it is twelve dollars!"
"Ten dollars! Ten dollars, sir."
I decided to walk.
That night, stolen_tea came by my room with a pair of movies in hand. Both Spider and Stolen had planned to inflict these movies upon each other, and I was merely providing the appropriate venue for this perversion. What could be better than a swanky hotel room to screen movies about piercings, rape, drugs, and violence? We had a ball.
Spider and I went on an exciting roadtrip on Saturday. It rained and we were stuck in traffic. As we were locating the Portland Art Museum, we managed to see the best clothing sale ever! We figured that if you got a new coat, the protesters would spraypaint you as you walked out.
The art museum was great. There was a brass sculpture that looked like a girl's back. I saw Hessian silverware that I would die to serve dinner upon. I marvelled at an armoire made in the early 1900s that looked like IKEA designed it. And I read a sign, in orange neon, that proclaimed FIVE WORDS IN ORANGE NEON. I wanted to take a photograph of it, but a security guard stopped me.
We all went to dinner at a fancy Thai restaurant called Typhoon! I started with ส้มตำ, a green papaya salad, which was absolutely fabulous. Then I got to indulge in a big bowl of duck curry with pineapple and cherry tomatoes and grapes. It was less savoury and more sweet, which was a pleasantly sticky surprise. A little more tart and a little less coconut cream and it would have been perfect!
I hung out with wealhtheow at a record store that was going out of business. Wealhþeow's theory is that their vinyl cost too much. But everything was on sale so I picked up two CDs, while she picked up one. Then we crossed the street to Powells, where I was doomed to buy too many books. I sat in the travel section for a while, when a couple came and asked to get to books on Canada. They pulled out a map and told me they were going to Victoria.
"It's on an island," he said.
"I know," I replied, "I'm Canadian."
They're going to get married there. I warned them about the rain.
For dessert, we headed over to Voodoo Doughnut which was nestled in a nook between two clubs. I tried to get someone to marry me there, but nobody accepted my proposals. However, the night was enlivened by some grunge punks who came in from a show to buy some snacks. There was a brash lass who proudly displayed her cock and balls. I got her e-mail address.
Spider and I went to Wealhþeow's place, where we were supposed to watch I ♥ Huckabees. Instead, the two girls posted to LiveJournal. After they had their fix, we shared music with each other and I was the lucky recipient of a copy of How We Quit the Forest.
On the way back to Seattle, we stopped to have a cheap, tasty hamburger. Spider stopped at a real American diner by the side of the road, where we got out and each ordered deluxe burgers. They're deluxe because they have lettuce and tomato. I also got to say "small chocolate malt" which I haven't done in years. It came in a large cup.
I got back in the air on Monday morning, where I was seated beside a husband and wife. This was vaguely unpleasant, as the wife was sitting in third-class when normally she flew first. Her husband seemed very nice and apologied for her brattiness. I expressed concern with my thirty-minute layover in Chicago, but he assured me that it was possible to run from one end of O'Hare to the other in six minutes. Then his wife mocked him.
I managed to run to my seat and sat beside a grandmother who seemed quite out of breath. It seems like she also ran to make her connecting flight from Denver. She flew a lot, so I asked her to help me clear customs, which she did. You know what the best thing about coming in Canada is? Seeing welcome signs that read "Arrivées/Arrivals".
It's nice to be home.
Comments
I love your photos.
Mon Dieu mais c'est vachement magnifique.
1) The burger was authentic, cheap diner food.
2) The chocolate malt was a real chocolate malt. It was so thick it was impossible to drink!
3) Spider paid for my meal.
I highly recommend that you have Synikule pay for yours. It tastes way better that way!
There's really no need for cocaine trays at this one. There's a glass surface wherever you look.
If I ever fall into that kind of depravity, I'll remember you and your wonderful advice!
Yeah, I get all chocked up (seriously!!) when I'm in the airport destined for Montreal and I hear people speaking french in the lobby. It's like, "*tear*, I'm coming home."
oh wow.. that thought has just made me want to go away for a very long time just so I can come back and get all genuinely teary eyed.
But yeah, after a week and a half of that, I found myself lining up at the Air Canada gate in Frankfurt to fly home, and suddenly I heard Quebecois French being spoken all around me and I nearly fell down. But it was good. Funny that.
You should take a trip. Why not?
I have been making enough travel to Victoria lately that I look forward to Overwaitea and RBC banks, and to Ottawa enough that I groove on the Byward market and even the immigration line with the seperate lines for non-residents and residents. And of course the handsome customs declaration forms in English on one side and French the other.
The airport there has pretty reasonably priced vegan snacks. And the top of each of the escalators in the United terminals are stands that sell dried fruit and nuts. Juice is easy to come by. It's among the best meals I've had in a US airport since going vegan. =)
I hear you about seeing the signs in English. Even when living in Vancouver, French is still everywhere - On the food, on postal trucks, etc.
I remember one particular trip where I'd had nothing but troubles. I'd had the border guards hassle me on the way down, had trouble with connections, got sick, yada yada. I went up to the Canadian officer and she just looked up at me, asked me the usual few questions, smiled and said "Welcome Home". It's always good to come back.
Tks,
Jeff Bailey
Lovely. I'm glad that I completely avoided that spectacle. In fact, even my luggage arrived! Albeit slightly tampered with. My stash of new CDs were all carefully unwrapped.
It's among the best meals I've had in a US airport since going vegan.
I've never had a meal in an aeroport and I hope never to resort to it. I'm unsure as to how I could get a good meal and I'm not vegan.
Welcome Home...:)
Seriously though, all those places are hold good memories for me... And if you get out there again, let me know, and I'll recommend a few choice venues and restaurants.
Do you have any haunts in San Francisco?