Cascadia '07, Pt. 1
Feel free to skim...
I started out from work on Wednesday afternoon, opting to take the Newark shuttle bus from 42nd Street @ Bryant Park, since that meant less walking than the AirTrain from Penn Station. It wasn't until the driver asked me what airline I'd be flying on that I realized I had no idea (Continental both ways, it turned out). We left about half an hour before the steam explosion just south of Grand Central. I'm sure that would have been rather jarring just before taking a plane out of greater New York City.
The first "Departures" screen I glanced at after arbitrarily exiting the bus at Terminal B didn't even list a flight to Seattle, which left me concerned with under 90 minutes to what I'd expected would be the departure time.
Turns out I didn't need to rush. After queuing for about 40 minutes to check my garment bag, I waded through security with my photo-less interim ID with no problem only to discover a delay; I think 9:50 was the initial revised estimate. Initially I envisioned sampling inexpensive items from all the eating establishments in the Terminal C food court, but for some reason decided not to and settled on chow mein followed by a visit to Dunkin Donuts. I still had plenty of time to get solidly into Jonathan Lethem's You Don't Love Me Yet before boarding--even with Dramamine, I avoid reading on the plane just to be sure.
After further delays and taxiing for eternity, I seem to recall taking off a little after midnight. The flight is a rather hazy memory, although I know I was definitely into the easy listening station during takeoff. It repeated the first three songs, which included Frank Sinatra, the Beach Boys, and a Motown number. After that I don't really know. I probably plugged in the iPod, but maybe not. I do recall getting very little to drink and eating the first of two of the airline's impossibly satisfying beef and swiss sandwiches. Kind of like a hamburger, but elliptical and notable for the weird consistency of the bun and the steamed nature of the whole thing.
We landed at 2:25 am. After checking out the bus lane (completely abandoned, but I did catch my first return whiff of light rain and evergreens) I decided my only option was probably a taxi. Expensive, but also a terrific relief to not have to think at all on my way to the MVS house arriving at 3:30.
Failing to drink any water before trying to zonk out on the couch, I received a cramp in my left calf when trying to stand up the next morning, but that subsided by mid-afternoon. I was surprised to catch four of the volunteers before noon, due to shifted or lapsed work schedules. Napping and puttering around (to the new Clientele album and a lot of KEXP after gingerly adjusting the aging hi-fi's controls to the precise position where everything works correctly) are basically all I accomplished before Holly and I caught the tail-end of Smith's happy hour (Fat Tire & sweet potato fries). We visited Value Village later, but for donations, not purchases.
Friday was rather more eventful. I worked out some details for the southern leg of my trip before heading downtown to Grist, where a champagne celebration was taking place in honor of the departing director of development. (He was at least partially responsible for this picture used during the early summer '06 fund drive. You can attempt to guess which one is me.) Following that came a pilgrimage to the Olympic Sculpture Park and Espresso Vivace, the former brand new and the latter outgoing due to construction of Seattle's Light Rail. I confirmed as well that Cal Anderson Park is still there. New townhouses have finally gone up at 14th & Olive, which was an ugly hole for most of my time on Capitol Hill. Other notable new buildings included the condo tower near the Central Library and the condos+retail near the 15th Avenue Safeway. There's now a hole in the ground where Thumper's used to sit, but that, too, will probably be rebuilt when I next return.
Holly and I attempted, half successfully, to gather provisions for the party; I had some issues with my identification. Oddly enough, we discovered a package of Brooklyn Lager and Pennant Ale (from a Park Slope address) just hours before the party was to begin. I guess it was someone who had recently visited. Also, there was Pike Kilt Lifter and, by request, Sierra Nevada Pale Ale.
The usual suspects showed up, and we recounted old times and ritualistically bonded out on the deck. Other people played Dutch Blitz, but I enthusiastically abstained. Amanda and I finally closed out the festivities a bit before dawn, and I kind of slept for around four hours.
(Note: I just discovered that this picture of the Fremont Rocket is, for some, reason three times as heavily viewed as any other picture I've uploaded to Flickr. Do people look at rocket photos that frequently? Or is it the neighborhood?)
I started out from work on Wednesday afternoon, opting to take the Newark shuttle bus from 42nd Street @ Bryant Park, since that meant less walking than the AirTrain from Penn Station. It wasn't until the driver asked me what airline I'd be flying on that I realized I had no idea (Continental both ways, it turned out). We left about half an hour before the steam explosion just south of Grand Central. I'm sure that would have been rather jarring just before taking a plane out of greater New York City.
The first "Departures" screen I glanced at after arbitrarily exiting the bus at Terminal B didn't even list a flight to Seattle, which left me concerned with under 90 minutes to what I'd expected would be the departure time.
Turns out I didn't need to rush. After queuing for about 40 minutes to check my garment bag, I waded through security with my photo-less interim ID with no problem only to discover a delay; I think 9:50 was the initial revised estimate. Initially I envisioned sampling inexpensive items from all the eating establishments in the Terminal C food court, but for some reason decided not to and settled on chow mein followed by a visit to Dunkin Donuts. I still had plenty of time to get solidly into Jonathan Lethem's You Don't Love Me Yet before boarding--even with Dramamine, I avoid reading on the plane just to be sure.
After further delays and taxiing for eternity, I seem to recall taking off a little after midnight. The flight is a rather hazy memory, although I know I was definitely into the easy listening station during takeoff. It repeated the first three songs, which included Frank Sinatra, the Beach Boys, and a Motown number. After that I don't really know. I probably plugged in the iPod, but maybe not. I do recall getting very little to drink and eating the first of two of the airline's impossibly satisfying beef and swiss sandwiches. Kind of like a hamburger, but elliptical and notable for the weird consistency of the bun and the steamed nature of the whole thing.
We landed at 2:25 am. After checking out the bus lane (completely abandoned, but I did catch my first return whiff of light rain and evergreens) I decided my only option was probably a taxi. Expensive, but also a terrific relief to not have to think at all on my way to the MVS house arriving at 3:30.
Failing to drink any water before trying to zonk out on the couch, I received a cramp in my left calf when trying to stand up the next morning, but that subsided by mid-afternoon. I was surprised to catch four of the volunteers before noon, due to shifted or lapsed work schedules. Napping and puttering around (to the new Clientele album and a lot of KEXP after gingerly adjusting the aging hi-fi's controls to the precise position where everything works correctly) are basically all I accomplished before Holly and I caught the tail-end of Smith's happy hour (Fat Tire & sweet potato fries). We visited Value Village later, but for donations, not purchases.
Friday was rather more eventful. I worked out some details for the southern leg of my trip before heading downtown to Grist, where a champagne celebration was taking place in honor of the departing director of development. (He was at least partially responsible for this picture used during the early summer '06 fund drive. You can attempt to guess which one is me.) Following that came a pilgrimage to the Olympic Sculpture Park and Espresso Vivace, the former brand new and the latter outgoing due to construction of Seattle's Light Rail. I confirmed as well that Cal Anderson Park is still there. New townhouses have finally gone up at 14th & Olive, which was an ugly hole for most of my time on Capitol Hill. Other notable new buildings included the condo tower near the Central Library and the condos+retail near the 15th Avenue Safeway. There's now a hole in the ground where Thumper's used to sit, but that, too, will probably be rebuilt when I next return.
Holly and I attempted, half successfully, to gather provisions for the party; I had some issues with my identification. Oddly enough, we discovered a package of Brooklyn Lager and Pennant Ale (from a Park Slope address) just hours before the party was to begin. I guess it was someone who had recently visited. Also, there was Pike Kilt Lifter and, by request, Sierra Nevada Pale Ale.
The usual suspects showed up, and we recounted old times and ritualistically bonded out on the deck. Other people played Dutch Blitz, but I enthusiastically abstained. Amanda and I finally closed out the festivities a bit before dawn, and I kind of slept for around four hours.
(Note: I just discovered that this picture of the Fremont Rocket is, for some, reason three times as heavily viewed as any other picture I've uploaded to Flickr. Do people look at rocket photos that frequently? Or is it the neighborhood?)
Posted on Friday, July 27, 2007
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