I walked to baggage claim, and finally met Fjellanger in the flesh. You will be pleased to know that he doesn't look all scary and severe like his userpics that I hate; and he's more interesting and funny than most of his journal entries might imply. Thank fucking goodness, because otherwise it was going to be a long five days.
He drove us back to his condo. He took a wrong turn or something; I think he was distracted by how gorgeous I am in real life. I had a drink at his place. It was 12:07, which is after noon, and WAY after noon Eastern time, which was where I started, and besides, I was on vacation! Vacations are for drinking. Then we went to the Space Noodle*. It's right next to that music museum that that guy made, which I guess is ugly if it's in your city, but if you're just walking by it, it's really cool to look at. We went to the top of the Noodle and looked at stuff. A German cameraman filmed us looking through the binoculars, which means that we're going to be on German TV, so if you see me, tape it, thx. The weather was BEAUTIFUL, as it was to be for the entirety of my trip. Know why? Because me and God, man? We're like THIS. And He wanted me to enjoy my vacation, because He knows how miserable I am at my job. Thanks, God! Oh also, I don't know if You noticed, there, Big Guy, but it's eighty-eight freaking degrees here in New Jersey. And also October. Right. Just thought that might have slipped by.
ANYWAY, the Space Noodle was awesome, but there's not a lot I can say about it. OH yes I can! Man, the mountains again. Mountains freaking everywhere. Like, here's the thing: they're at the horizon. You look out, and there they are, like someone painted them on the back wall. I . . . I just can't get over that shit. We don't have that here. We have . . . I don't know. Trees. And flatness. You look at the horizon, and there's . . . there's nothing painted on the back wall. No one took the time. And then there's RAINIER, which the locals refer to as simply "the mountain," and which is 90 miles from Seattle but looks closer because it's so goddamned tall. (These were all facts from the inside of the Space Noodle. And what's funny? Is that last night I was talking to my dad and he told me about how when HE went to Seattle, he had the flu or pneumonia or something for either eleven or twenty-one days, he can't remember, and it was gray and overcast the entire time until the very last day when the clouds parted and THERE was Rainier, and he said that it looked real close, but that's just because it's so big, and really, it's far away. Man, Dad.) Mount Rainier looks like it's FLOATING out there, and it's got GLACIERS on it and it's gorgeous and Eric said "do you want to go to a mountain one of the days you're here?" and I said "YES" and he said "which one? There's ____ or ____ or Mount Rainier" and I said "RAINIER PLEASE" because there it is, man, just sitting there, chillin' chillin'. Man. Mountains.
[Oh and also Eric pointed out the pier on which Real World Seattle took place, the one where the black dude smacked the crazy girl right in the freaking face. MAN I hated that guy. I didn't watch that particular Real World when it was on as a series, but one time senior year Henky and I got caught in a marathon and we sat there, all day, in our pyjamas, and watched the whole entire thing. Kim and Keith came over to meet Henry, because he was new and cute then, and Henky and I just sat there and watched Real World in our pyjamas and talked to Kim and Keith during the commercials. But the point of this paragraph was that when I was in New Orleans, Slick and/or Scrow pointed out the Real World house THERE, so now I've seen the locations of two Real Worlds. Whoopee.]
Inside the Space Noodle was lots of stuff to read, and a lot of it was sciency, which was good because (as you may know) I'm a scientist, and Fjellanger is a . . . um . . . well he's not a damn thing I guess, did you know he hasn't even graduated COLLEGE yet? He can't even say he's a college graduate. He tries, but it just comes out "I'm a college gagaguwa". But he IS a nerd, so we ate that shit up. We didn't eat at the restaurant because I guess it's a little too rich for Fjellanger's blood, and he's unemployed and doesn't even have a degree, so I guess I understand.
Then we ate at Dick's, which is a hamburger place that's real cheap and I liked it. You have to pay ten (five?) cents for ketchup, and it comes in the leetle Solo cups that I use to make Jell-O shots. That means that somebody has to do that every morning, fill up eight million little Solo cups with ketchup, and then put the tops on, and that part is a BITCH, I know from all my Jell-O shot makin'. I wonder if I would like the squirting-in-the-ketchup part, though, I bet I would.
After Dick's we went to the Pike Place Market, which is where they throw the fish. We didn't see them throw fish, though, they just threw crabs, which weren't as impressive. Maybe if they were alive, and snapping, that would be cool. But they did holler in unison. And they had crab legs there that were like three feet long, I swear. Seriously. Gihugic. Ridiculous. They looked like legs from some shit at the Museum of Natural History or some shit. They apparently belonged to Alaskan King Crabs, maybe. And I was talking about how freaking big they were, and I said "fuck" or something, and there was a lady with a camcorder right in front of me, and right after I dropped the F-bomb she shut her camera off and went away. Oops! I guess I need to watch my mouth in public.
Also at the PPM (as Scrow likes to call it) were various little booths of various stuff, and your street musicians, and OH MAN fucking flower vendors. These flowers . . . were amazing. Simply amazing. The colors blew me away, and everything was so BIG, there were these things that I think were called sunflowers, but they didn't have the big blank spot in the middle, they were filled with feathery petals. And there were these purple flowers that formed a big ball, they looked like . . . you know those balls that you unfold, they're made of tissue paper and they're flat and then you unfold them and clip them the other way and then they're a ball? I have one for Thanksgiving that's a turkey, so his head is cardboard, and his body and tail are this tissue paper thing . . . man, either you know what I'm talking about or you don't, that's the best I can do. Anyway, that's what these purple flowers looked like, they were tight and the petals looked all woven together . . . gorgeous, everything was gorgeous. The ol' PPM is a great place for looking, and man, if there's one thing I like about Life, it's the looking. So many people, and flowers, and wreaths of chile peppers that are so bright and shiny . . . and downstairs there was this store, man. I couldn't stop thinking about Jon while I was in there, and how much he would have liked it. They had all these old prints, originals and reproductions . . . amazing art, I guess a lot from the Forties? Maybe? I don't know shit about it. But all these old prints, advertisements and posters and stuff . . . if I lived in Seattle, my whole house would be covered with that shit, but the things were too big to take on the plane, and besides, I'm broke.
Fjellanger bought blueberries, and we sat on some grass in the sun and ate some, I don't think I had ever had a blueberry before, even though I live right by Hammonton, New Jersey, which, as everyone knows, is the Blueberry Capitol of the World. There was a parasailor in the water out there (there were waters all over the place, rivers and sounds and lakes, and I couldn't keep the damn things straight), as well as a cruise ship, and we tried to brainstorm ways to sneak on, but we didn't really come up with much. OH I just thought of one! We could have hidden inside a laundry cart, maybe, underneath the sheets. No, wait, they probably do all the laundry on the ship. Dammit.
On our way out of the city, we were in some wicked traffic. And this fine-looking brunette pulled up next to us in a cream-colored car, old school, it was real nice, and then I noticed it was a DODGE DART! That's what I want! That's my car! I've been talking about Impalas more because it seemed like a Dart would be hard to find, but man! I leaned out the window and said "I like your car," and she said "thanks," and I said "what year is it?" and she said "sixty-four." Dude, THAT'S MY YEAR! Seriously! I immediately regretted that I hadn't said "what is that, a sixty-four?" because then I bet I could have gotten her number, right? Don't you think? But I didn't and I didn't and she crept away.
Traffic in Seattle seems to be a real bitch.
*P.S. It isn't my idea to call the Space Needle the Space Noodle, it's Jeff's. Isn't it funny, though?