Seattle

Sam and I departed early saturday morning for the Emerald City. We intended to depart at 7am but soon realized our plans would be upset by our lack of access to a car. After a series of redials to Michael and Charles, we contacted Tori, who thankfully rises early. We acquired keys from a naked Charles and depart in our German sedan.


Soundtrack is a mix of indie and electronic sounds.


We arrive at the border. The line is long. In front of us three middle aged motorcyclists closely resemble the Top Gear cast. They have an almost clairvoyant ability to predict the movements of the line.


After passing the border, Sam decides my need for urinary discharge is an opportunity for his own amusement. I am told I ought to take this as an challenge to explore the strength of my sphincter. I am unimpressed. Though I possess the knowledge that a stop will be prompted by either a need for breakfast or shopping outlets. Countless reststops pass and with them the potential for relief as well as the exploration of unknown American fastfood outlets; Jack in the Box I shall never know thy name. My solace lies in knowing that the first outlet mall is at exit 227. The border starts around 280 but the erratic speed at which the exits pass obscures the comfort this may have provided. 


Finally we arrive at exit 227. I run to the edge of the building and aim to make a small creek out of a ditch. Sam and I are overjoyed at the presence of a Filson outlet. How could this have happened? This shit never goes on sale. Sam acquires a bag to match mine, he pays significantly less than I. I buy a Levis Filson bomber jacket, though it fits him. I win this battle. We also buy lovely bridle leather belts. I buy a a Lululemon zip-up sweater. Sam tells me the name is unpronounceable by the Japanese and is the product of some incredulous Japanese investors. I will surely bring my rururemon to Japan.


We play fart Tennis until the next outlet.


Teledo Tulip Outlet (this is a grossly inaccurate representation of its name) has nicer shops but bore less purchases. We ate. Some ladies told us we looked classic because we were looking at Persols. Sam succeeded in navigating his way back to the highway; quite the accomplishment.


Seattle is quite a nice city to arrive in; the first genuine rolling city scape I have seen. Vancouver lacks this alluring quality though makes up for it with a vista of mountains. We drove around looking for somewhere with free parking and wifi to book a hotel. A McDonalds on the outskirts that smelled of rotting fish did the trick. We booked the first Four star and yelled home to Bel Air or the Sheraton, whichever you please.


After flipping the wheels over to a valet we checked into the hotel, it was definitively the second nicest hotel I have stayed in this year.


We set out to pursue the tourist activities. We walked down to the harbour. A gospel group scatted on the boulevard. Pike's market was bustling with activity. I pondered whether these people were actual citizens buying groceries or just tourist buying groceries. We found a store which sold prints. Most doctors surveyed smoked Camels.


Next was Nordstrom's Rack. Sam bought Persols; because we are classic. We fought over who ought to have the better case. Sam is bad at zero sum games.


We went for dinner and ate seafood.


Business crisis ensued.


We woke up. We went home.