The final day of travel was quite smooth. As our plane pushed out of Seattle I was able to see Mounts Ranier and Hood resting on layers of cloud. From my seat, Rainer appeared almost touchable. The rest of the flight was spent catching up on politics and pop culture via the latest issue of Rolling Stone. I did wonder to myself what would happen if someone came to our planet with no reference for culture other than Rolling Stone. They would have quite the skewed outlook indeed.
We landed in Kansas City in the early evening and were back at Lloyd's an hour later. Completely worn out, yet famished, we sought out the only place the Northwest had been lacking: Buffalo Wild Wings. One final dinner together was followed by an evening of transferring photos and Seinfeld.
Early the next morning, I left Kansas City for home. I had much to think over having been gone for two weeks. Be sure many of these thoughts will continue to pop up on this blog in spite of the trip being officially over.
One of my favorite movies ever is Jaws. Not so much the parts of a giant fish eating tourists but the character development. Of all the great scenes this film has to offer, one that sticks out is an exchange between the characters played by Richard Dreyfuss and Roy Scheider as they swim back home, having sent the Great White to his doom by way of a conveniently placed oxygen tank. Sheider, the Chief of Police on Amity Island mentions to Dreyfuss, "I used to hate the water." In a half laugh of irony, his partner responds, "I can't imagine why."
Two weeks previous, as I was west bound on I-70, I recall thinking how much I hated driving through Missouri. Now that I was coming home, there was a sweetness to the drive.
From home,
Harvey.
Monday, August 4, 2008
Friday, August 1, 2008
Day Thirteen - Shoes and Ships and Sealing Wax
It is easily noted that Lloyd and I are in the home stretch of our trip. Today we aimlessly wandered through Seattle with little or no desire to become too involved. We passed through the market and were able to witness the world famous Pike's Fish Market where the employees are quite dynamic, throwing large gutted fish to one another. Another landmark we came upon was the location of the vary first Starbucks. As the line was outside and stretching down the street, we declined fancy coffee. Lunch was had at an authentic Irish pub called Fado'. Guinness BBQ wings, buffalo sandwiches and chips made for one of the best meals in two weeks.
We ventured down the road, frequenting the occasional bookstore. Over one block was Emerald City Guitars. Inside we found a collection of equipment not to be surpassed by any shop I've ever been in. The guitars were original collectors items ranging from a second year issue Strat for $45,000 to real vintage VOX amps to a 1965 D-18 Martin.
After leaving Emerald City, Lloyd and I decided it was time to find a place to get rid of several accumulated items which were unable to fly home including a cooler full of Dr. Pepper, a box of dry food, two outdoor folding chairs, and of course our speaker system from the car. We decided the baseball bat would be a bad idea to give away since it would upset the order and balance of things. The dry food went to a man laying on the sidewalk with a sign saying he was crippled and would sing for food. At a red light, Lloyd quickly jumped out of the car and delivered a large banana box full of crackers, nuts, granola, and assorted snacks to the bewildered man. We heard of a mission near the sports arena, so we drove in that direction, all the while looking for someone in need. The problem with Seattle is that most of it's down and out citizens aren't easily identifiable as in Chicago or San Francisco. At the same time, some of the city's more rustic looking gentlemen could be easily mistaken for a hobo or otherwise. Lloyd and I had to be sure. We rounded a corner near the mission and saw a large pile of odds and ends sitting in several grocery carts near the curb. We parked the car, looked around to see who might be observing us and quickly distributed our contribution.
We returned to the College Inn and both collapsed on our beds for a couple of hours. A couple of ironed shirts later as well as a short stint of Wikipedia-ing Reginald Vel Johnson and Jaleel White and we were arriving at Ray's Boathouse, a sea food restaurant of the highest quality in the Seattle area. We were seated near a large window with a stunning view overlooking the bay. The food, while quite expensive was very enjoyable. So far, I believe Seattle wins for best food in any city on this trip. After 17 wrong turns, Lloyd and I arrived back at the College Inn to close out the remainder of the evening.
Tomorrow, we board our flight back to Kansas City.
We have both agreed we won't be consuming any sliced deli meat for a while.
From Room 205 in Seattle,
H.
We ventured down the road, frequenting the occasional bookstore. Over one block was Emerald City Guitars. Inside we found a collection of equipment not to be surpassed by any shop I've ever been in. The guitars were original collectors items ranging from a second year issue Strat for $45,000 to real vintage VOX amps to a 1965 D-18 Martin.
After leaving Emerald City, Lloyd and I decided it was time to find a place to get rid of several accumulated items which were unable to fly home including a cooler full of Dr. Pepper, a box of dry food, two outdoor folding chairs, and of course our speaker system from the car. We decided the baseball bat would be a bad idea to give away since it would upset the order and balance of things. The dry food went to a man laying on the sidewalk with a sign saying he was crippled and would sing for food. At a red light, Lloyd quickly jumped out of the car and delivered a large banana box full of crackers, nuts, granola, and assorted snacks to the bewildered man. We heard of a mission near the sports arena, so we drove in that direction, all the while looking for someone in need. The problem with Seattle is that most of it's down and out citizens aren't easily identifiable as in Chicago or San Francisco. At the same time, some of the city's more rustic looking gentlemen could be easily mistaken for a hobo or otherwise. Lloyd and I had to be sure. We rounded a corner near the mission and saw a large pile of odds and ends sitting in several grocery carts near the curb. We parked the car, looked around to see who might be observing us and quickly distributed our contribution.
We returned to the College Inn and both collapsed on our beds for a couple of hours. A couple of ironed shirts later as well as a short stint of Wikipedia-ing Reginald Vel Johnson and Jaleel White and we were arriving at Ray's Boathouse, a sea food restaurant of the highest quality in the Seattle area. We were seated near a large window with a stunning view overlooking the bay. The food, while quite expensive was very enjoyable. So far, I believe Seattle wins for best food in any city on this trip. After 17 wrong turns, Lloyd and I arrived back at the College Inn to close out the remainder of the evening.
Tomorrow, we board our flight back to Kansas City.
We have both agreed we won't be consuming any sliced deli meat for a while.
From Room 205 in Seattle,
H.
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