My Hell of a New Year’s In Seattle

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My Hell of a New Year’s In Seattle

January 10, 2009

seattle space needle On Christmas afternoon, 2008, my friend Matt and I jumped on a plane to Seattle, Washington. I hadn’t been there in almost 6 years.

Maybe it should’ve been longer.

What follows are 2 pieces I wrote earlier, describing the “highlights” of our little journey:

[begin part 1, written 2 days after our arrival]

I’m writing now from cold, snowy, icy Seattle, WA – yup, my friend Matt and I flew the 2000+ miles up (and over) here for… well, for a few reasons actually.

One is, Matt used to live here and is considering living here again. Wanted to come back to see if the old places still felt like “home” or not. Also, there is this girl (isn’t there always?) and tomorrow they are seeing each other for the first time in 4 years or so. As the spectator who made it possible for them to be together again, I will be very interested to watch and see what happens with them tomorrow. And the next day… and the next (we’ll be up here for about 8 more days, and I’m sure several of them will be spent as a 3-set, and while they’re off “catching up”, I’ll go rouge and hunt around the city for my own breed of amusement.) It’d be a shame to come here for the 2nd time and not see the Space Needle thing, so we gotta do that. Otherwise, the city’s free game.

Getting here was an unexpected adventure in itself. Matt arrived late into St Louis to meet up, which threw off our MetroLink schedule, causing us to have to park is car in some weird back alley and RUN to the nearest station. Kinda makes me wonder if it’ll still be there upon our (safe?) return, but of course I’m not gonna worry my good friend of 19 years with that little ponderance

Passed annoying security, then on to the plane. St Louis to Chicago. Chicago to Seattle.

That was the easy part.

Next in store was taking the wrong bus to downtown Seattle, then – an amazing stroke of luck – getting off at a stop that just happened to be 2 blocks from where we could catch the “real” bus outta there. Well, 40 minutes later in the freezing cold with my heavy (yet oh so stylish) duffle, we jump on the bus to meet up with Matt’s friend.

This is the “express” bus that’s supposed to take us smooth sailing into Redmond where we’re staying…

Except… no, it doesn’t.

Instead, the sadistic lady drops us off at some weenie little outpost in the middle of nowhere in the slush and ice. Reminded me of some arctic desert with nothingness as far as the eye could see. A lone eagle cry echoes the expanse; you know, that whole thing.

Well, 30 minutes later (!) some other dude in a shuttle bus with chains wrapped around the tires comes by and is like “you guys look cold, wanna lift?”

“No thank you, sir, the process by which our balls slowly turn blue is rather fascinating…”

Of course we want a ride!!

So he takes us as far as he can; to the end of the line. But we’re still not in Redmond… we’re out in the middle of some abandoned little town-like area, wading in about a foot of snow. Strangely, not a single building in sight has a canopy or any other kind of shelter. We stand under the only tree in sight, because at least the ice bits it drops is better than all the crap coming outta the sky.

Matt’s friend calls some other guy and they come to pick us up. They bring us back to somebody else’s home (friend of a friend of a friend sort of thing) where a lot of people are already gathered around in a circle telling interesting stories and the occasional dick joke. We had some fun for awhile as I scavenged some dead lasagna and some kind of potatoe-and-vegetable mixture.

But still… “how we gonna get home?” Matt asked his friend in a stroke of foresight. Seems the friend hadn’t thought that far ahead yet. Thankfully some of the others offered a ride, so we piled into this little station-wagon-like-thing and fish-tailed our way home.

Except… not quite.

They drop us off at the base of this gigantic hill, because there was no way any vehicle short of a Sherman tank could make it up there. So we grabbed our bags, gritted our teeth and lugged… and lugged… and lugged our stuff up this big icy creepshow… in near-darkness.

Finally, we summit. (yes, that’s what I’ll call it, a summit) And reach domestic tranquility.

Except… not quite.

The next morning, I discover The Truth: this apartment is a total disaster. No towels, no silverware… barely any food. Kinda mucky but not nearly as bad as some I have seen. (my place back home is immaculate, by the way)

Welcome to Gilligan’s Apartment.

I did manage to find an apple, which I promptly ate like it was the only food left on earth. Then Matt and I got dressed to go to the grocery… 1 mile away… down Hell-Hill… on foot.

And back.

The fun part was when we stopped into this nice warm Japanese restaurant for about 2 hours to relax and eat some REAL food. Then it was back to our task.

On the way out, we hijacked this little stray shopping cart and wheeled our load part way, dodging traffic like the little frog on Frogger.

Until it stuck in the snow.

Then we trudged the rest of the way on foot, back up the hill, grocery bags in hand… and on up to our Summit Arctic Retreat.

Now I’m here in a dimly lit living room, writing, telling you my tales of woe and triumph [laughs] It’s been a hell of a last 2 days.

I wonder what the other 8 will bring?

[...end of part 1 - continued below with part 2, written after I got back...]

I think Dorothy was really on to something with all the “There’s no place like home” stuff.

‘Cause I feel great to be back!

Near the end of that trip, I’d been on so many buses, planes, trains, and automobiles (literally), I could’ve swore the bed was shifting and churning underneath as my head hit my own pillow for the first time in 1/3 of a month at 6am Tuesday morning.

Yep, we were that late getting back.

My friend Matt’s a good guy, but not exactly known for punctuality or responsibility. These antics (along with his mule-stubborn refusal to run anywhere for any reason; something I’d wager on even if the guy was chased down face-to-face with the Grim Reaper Himself) caused us to:

a) trap ourselves in downtown Seattle with no shelter and a dead cell phone battery among the worst ice and snow storm the area has seen since 1880-something – I’m talking Guinness World Records shit. The other day I even read a news article about how the Pacific Northwest weather was quote “surprising even Alaskans” – geezus

b) covertly “borrow” a ride on the Metro since Matt forgot his wallet (containing our tickets) “in his other pants”, freaking out the crazy Korean driver I was sure would dump us off in the middle of nowhere (thank God for Holiday compassion and negotiating skills)

c) miss 3 key buses in a row on our way back to the airport, forcing us to lug our heavy travel bags over a mile across snow, ice, and freezing rain to the nearest major hub where the stops were more frequent

At last we arrived at the airport, waddled through a maze of security, finally settling into a comfortable lounge area to wait for our plane.

Which was delayed. And delayed again.

The plane was there, but since Dallas had some ice-issues, no one wanted us to take off since we’d get there too fast before they had time to clear off the runway.

Ah, a slip-n-slide runway. Fun fun.

One turbulent, unusually speedy flight later, we’re standing at a Wendy’s in Dallas – waiting for our plane back to St Louis.

Which was delayed. And delayed again.

The Dallas airport is so large, it has its own rail transit system to cart you around from place to place. We rode that thing at 40-50 mph for 4 stops and 12 minutes before even being in the remote vicinity of our gate.

Despite the extra time, we didn’t realize we were literally a whole MILE from the gate until about 15 minutes before the flight, thus sliding in just as the last person boarded the plane and the doors sucked shut.

Off the plane in St Louis. Over half an hour waiting to get our bags, then it’s off to the train, 3 hours late from catching our ONLY (cheap) hope of getting back to Matt’s car and my apartment.

Caught the last train of the night as it pulled out.

Now one last hurdle… would Matt’s car still be where we left it?

See, since Matt was late getting to my place the day we left for Seattle, we had to park his car in some dark, unmarked back-alley parking lot beside some delapidated apartments nearest the station to be on time for the train. Now, 10 days later, after everything that’d happened on this trip, this was the ONE THING we’d always counted on to go wrong in the end; the final cherry on top a big shit-Sundae.

We rounded the corner, and… it was… there. The tires were still on. And the engine still started. Amazing.

Matt drove me home and the rest was smooth sailing.

Smooth for me, I mean. Not for Matt. He stalled 2 times out on the highway and fell asleep once… didn’t make it home until NOON the next day.

Well, at least the trip was fun while actually IN Seattle, right?

Not so fast, Buckwheat.

Sure, we got to see some of Matt’s old friends, play some games, socialize, and toured around for awhile. That part was cool and I enjoyed myself. (and yes, we finally went to the Space Needle )

What was NOT cool was when Matt discovered this girl he went to go see (one of the major reasons I paid for most of the trip, so they could be together) had been lying to him the whole time. She’d lied about her feelings for Matt, desires for the future, and how she dumped this other guy so Matt and her could finally be together again.

None of it was true. Especially the part about dumping the loser.

He confronted her about it, she confirmed it, and they had a big fight. I found out about it 2 days later once all the dust settled.

Why she let things go on for as long as they did is still unclear, especially when there was no obvious benefit to anyone and things could only go downhill from where they stood.

You might think Matt got the entire bucket of bat turds dumped squarely on him.

But you’d be wrong.

Because on my first day back, I discovered the guy who was supposed to buy a part of my publishing business – the same guy I’d turned down another (good) offer for so I could accept his – backed out at the last second, for weird reasons that baffle us all.

Funny how everybody’s always so cool up until the point where they actually gotta pony up some cash.

Whatever. I’m back home now in my spacious, well-stocked, not to mention CLEAN home. It’s a new year and time to focus on getting back to work, making some damn money, and having some real fun.

Often, the only person you can truly rely on is yourself. Nobody’s gonna dust your ass off and throw you back in the game except you. So here I go for round 2. I have some important New Year’s wishes to start making come true!

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