This morning I woke up and walked 1.6 miles to the super-REI store in Seattle. And yes, it really is super. Complete with it’s own rock-climbing wall and three floors of oudoor goodness, this thing was a true backpacker’s paradise. I was looking for some light-weight, quick-drying long-sleeved T-shirt and undershirts, and bought one a piece. Later, I spoke to Zorba and he made me feel a little more confident about my current arsenal of clothing.
After REI, I decided to walk around downtown and search for a sandwhich-serving coffee shop with Wi-Fi, a more difficult task than it sounds in Seattle. I made it all the way to the Public Market when I decided to forego the amenities for a really good gyro (it tastes better when you say “yeero”). I ate the rather messy lunch while gazing upon the Seattle harbor and avoiding the pigeons that gathered nearby.
Laura picked me up from the Public Market and we went to the Museum of Flight, sponsored/owned/housed by Boeing. And yes, I got an employee discount! 2 1/2 years of unwavering dedication will afford you $3 off the admission price. The museum itself was rather interesting, with several mock-ups of WW I/II era aircraft, along with more modern fare. The Museum also housed “The Red Barn”, Boeing’s original factory.
Later, Peter came up with the idea of going to the casino at 1:30 in the morning. Not having anything to do on Friday, I thought that gambling away my money was a responsible way to spend my time. I got manhandled at $3/$6 poker, but managed to recoup my losses at the blackjack table. At the end of the night, I was +$45, not bad at all. We got back home at around 5:30 AM, and Peter had a class at 8:30. For reasons I can’t recall, Peter wanted to stay up all night, drinking, then go to class. And for equally ambiguous reasons, I thought that was the greatest idea ever. At 8 AM, Peter left for class and I actually went with him. I sat through a discussion section and a lecture (fell asleep during each), and then hoofed it back to his apartment while he finished off a couple more classes.
I fell asleep until about 5 PM, when we got ready for the drive to Hood River.
I leave you today with one last tidbit of information from the Museum of Flight: WW II combat pilots would often have mascots that they would either keep around the barracks or even take on the plane with them. They believed these mascots brought them luck and kept them safe. The mascot could be anything, from a dog to a billy goat. It could even be a beer-drinking duck:
See all the picture from Seattle here, and stay tuned for a quiet weekend with Ed in Hood River, OR.