The day starts in typical Seattle fashion - grey, cloudy, and drizzly. I guess it wouldn't be right if I had days of atypical spring Seattle weather. I am told, however, that summer in Seattle is exactly like my first three days - sunny and perfect almost every day.
I pack up my bag in preparation for tomorrow. I leave rather early in the morning tomorrow, so getting packed would take some time. I want to be ready ahead of time.
Emily calls, and we meet at the front of the hotel. Our destination: breakfast at Voula's Offshore Cafe. Once featured on Food Network's Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives, this place is positively amazing. When you arrive, you write your name and the number of those in your party on the clipboard by the door. Then, you wait. But Voula's doesn't want you to wait without something to do, so they leave a giant dispenser of their phenomenal coffee outside. Grab a mug from the covered container, use the creamer and sugar, or just take it black. It really is some good coffee, and it tastes even better in the cool, drizzly morning air.
We are moved up on the list, thanks to an impatient little bugger, who couldn't wait and ran a few errands. We take two stools at the counter. While this would not normally be my ideal seating arrangement, it gives the two of us a wonderful view of the diner atmosphere and the mass cooking going on behind the counter. Three guys do it all, and they are something to behold. They work like machines, frying hash browns, making massive omelets, cooking their famous smoked pork, and flipping pancakes. You have to see it for yourself.
I make a complete pig of myself. I order two pancakes, a side of hash browns, and a side of their smoked pork. OMFG! It's way too much food. Three massive plates full of food that I don't think I can possibly finish, but somehow, I manage to scarf down everything except a couple pieces of the pork. Something has to be sacrificed. Emily orders a Pinata Benedict. It's Eggs Benedict with smoked pork added and a chipotle hollandaise sauce. It's pretty freaking spectacular. She gets an extra cup of the hollandaise on the side, so I use some on my pork. Trust me, it's the only way to eat the pork.
Emily and I have both talked about our weirdo magnets and how they sometimes work overtime. Today is no exception. A droogy little thing with a dirty worn-out white beanie and some unwashed clothes sits down next to us. Immediately, she hones in on our conversation. I mean, this girl is literally staring at me and listening as if I'm talking to her. My warning bells go off, but before I can sound the full alarm, she and Emily are chatting it up. One thing I can say about Seattle residents, I have not heard one of them bash their city. I mean, none of them really love the winter and spring rains, but they seem accepting of it, knowing that summer and fall will be pretty spectacular. Residents of The Emerald City can chat it up about Seattle and their love of the city in seconds. It's shocking, but also kind of exciting, too.
Emily doesn't see her as a threat, but I'm on guard the entire time. I'm not sure if it's because she's taking away valuable time with my friend on my last day in Seattle or just because she sets off my creepy weirdo alarm, but I don't allow her to get personal with me. I don't have to work too hard at it. Once she finds out I'm from Indiana, it's like I have the freaking plague or something. She backs off right away.
More than an hour passes inside the restaurant before we have the leg power and the stamina to stand up and leave. We are both so full, it's out of control. If someone would offer me a wheelbarrow right now, I'd take it as an alternative means of getting to the car. Once we waddle back to the car, we are off and running (figuratively, of course). Emily insists that I see the Fremont Troll. Not far from the cafe, we arrive at a road that goes directly under one of two massive and scary bridges. The three Billy Goats Gruff greet us at the bottom of the road. We travel uphilll a bit on a road with room for only one car at a time. At the top of the hill, the troll appears. The sculpture of the troll seemingly rises up from the ground, right below the bridge. His left hand is crushing a car, while his right hand is pressed into the ground. He's a source of amusement for every kid visiting. They are all climbing on him and sitting on his hands, etc. He's totally fun.
A trip to Gasworks Park is next on the agenda. Gasworks is (yep, you guessed it) home to a former gasworks. The abandoned gasworks still sits on the property, fenced off and rusted, but still a site to see. A large hill sits in the center of the small park, and people are walking up and down the paths leading to and from the top. There are those flying kites, playing ball, and just strolling about. The most interesting site is the odd group of people in the parking lot - all of them dressed like old--fashioned golfers or something out of a 1980s prep catalog. They are waiting for school buses to pick them up, and they are doing nothing to steer attention away from them.
We stop back at Emily's house afterwards to digest and relax for a bit. At this point, we're only a few hours away from the big earthquake that's supposed to usher in The Rapture. We decide after a bit to go to Snoqualmie Falls Park. The falls are impressive, but when we arrive, the trail that leads down to the base of the falls is closed off with a sign that says it will be reopening in 2013. We're nothing if not a couple of people with poor timing.
When we get back into the car, I make my secret geek request of Emily. I want to see Nintendo's headquarters in Redmond. I've been a complete Nintendo loyalist for as long as I can remember. Plus, I know that Emily works at the HSBC in Redmond, and I want to see where she works, too. So, off we go, but not before doing something a man would never do - stopping to ask for directions to Redmond from where we are. Thank God I'm not driving.
The gas station attendant sends us on a scenic route through some wooded hills. We arrive at Emily's work just fine. I get to see the inside of the bank (through a gated window of course), but I see her name on the counter next to her station. So cute! We stop in the Starbucks drive-thru and order some lattes. We are sitting in the drive-thru when the clock changes to 6P.M. No earthquake, no people ascending, no sign of Jesus in the sky on a chariot, nothing. What a farce!
Finding Nintendo, however, proves to be even more of a challenge than we imagine. It's like the place is a hidden fortress. The street it's on just never shows up on our drive. !50th Avenue should come after 149th and before 151st. No such luck. We end up near one of the many Microsoft campuses when we decide to Map Quest it on Emily's phone. We follow the directions to the letter, but still no 150th Avenue. WTF? Then, just as we're about to turn around again, we find it. A quiet, unassuming little street, 150th Avenue is all Nintendo. The first building we come to is the Software Technology Corporation - a white, run-down little building that looks like something that will someday be torn down. It's not attractive and not flashy at all. I snap a picture of it, going with the idea that things never look the way you expect. Then, we see it. The corporate offices are ahead on the right. We turn out of the white building down the rest of 150th Avenue and are faced with the basketball courts, the tennis areas, the full size soccer field, the patios, the outdoor seating, and oh yeah, the offices themselves. I can't tell you how disappointed I am by the building, though. No statue of Mario, no fountain, nothing. It's just a large grey structure with a massive parking garage and the playland next door. Still, I can say that I've been here.
Another stop at Emily's house follows, then it's off to the Erotic Art Festival. Now, just a bit of background here, but I asked Emily to do some things that would take me out of my comfort zone. The Erotic Art Festival is just that. It's completely wild and crazy.It's being held in Fremont, not far from where the Troll stands under the bridge. Not sure if that's appropriate or not. Nevertheless, after an ordeal trying to find a parking place and trying to find the place in the driving Seattle night rain, we arrive.
It takes me a long time to throw away my Midwestern sensibilities when I arrive. It's like the wildest costume party I've ever been to - and I'm completely and utterly overdressed for the event - literally. I'm wearing clothes, and so many people are not. There are only a few rules for the festival. You have to be 18 to get in. You cannot show any nipples or genitalia. And you have to bring your inner freak to the forefront.
It's an assault on the Midwestern brain at first. There are people in all kinds of crazy getups. People are dressed like Victorian mask party attendees. Men are in women's apparel. Women are in very little apparel. There are dominatrixes. There are crazy leather junkies. There are fishnets, no nets, and boots that go up to the top of the thigh. There are vamps, gramps, and tramps complete with stamps. I walk around thinking that if The Rapture had truly arrived, this place and everyone in it would have been left behind for sure. The only crosses I see are tattooed on arms and asses, and the only rosary beads present are part of leashes that are being used to drag around submissives.
After making a quick potty stop (we were hunting for a parking space for a really long time), we explore the art. This festival is certainly not for the feint of heart. There are chicks, dicks, and sticks. There are sculptures, paintings, mixed media, even living art (like the woman we keep thinking is a mannequin until she moves). There is art on every wall, and most of it is really good. It's moving, thought-provoking, and fun. There are bars everywhere and "Confession Stands" in several areas serving up naughty desserts and snacks. In the main auditorium, they are performing a pseudo-Moulin Rouge-type musical, complete with dancing, acrobatics, and infectious beats. There's also a food artist who is applying thin slices of fruits and vegetables to his nude models. There are tables set up to watch the artistry, and also a separate treats area where you can eat the foods that the artist is using. And no, they are not the ones that are on the models!
In the back area, there's an amazing colored mural of images of men and women, all nude, with their confessions written on their bodies. It's my favorite piece of art all night. Well, other than the two pop culture pieces - one of Spy vs Spy having sex and one entitled "The Raging Fan" with a naked man standing in a room full of Star Wars memorabilia wearing a Storm Trooper mask. At the far back, there are some interactive areas. A peep show area called The Lusty Lady is set up for women to try their hand at being a peep show dancer. There's also a naughty Victorian era setting where you can pay to have your picture taken in any number of scandalous ways. And finally, there's the small area where you can have yourself tied up - not to the point of immobility, but just enough to feel a little risque. Emily has it done.
I find myself taking pictures like crazy of all of the people in costume. It's all so "out of my comfort zone." After several hours, though, I find myself just getting used to it all. Of course, once I think I've seen it all, here comes a guy in a powdered wig in leather boots, a gothic coat with tails, and assless pants. Or better yet, here's the 300 lb. girl with her boobs sagging to her waistline, wearing only a boob-less boustier and daisy pasties to cover her nipples. Or how about the couple in their 60s buying his and hers towel holders for the bathroom - a penis for hers and a clamping vagina for his - and then looking for the perfect nude photos to line their bathroom walls.
To say I'm having a good time would be an understatement. I'm flabbergasted, amazed, and entertained all at the same time. Fetishes and hangups of every kind are represented in the large studio/auditorium. There's nothing off limits, and there's not a person in attendance who is shy or unassuming in their choice of clothing. By the time I walk out the door, I'm starting to wonder how much a Gothic coat with tails would run me and where on Earth I could ever wear it. As for the assless pants, I will leave those up to people who actually have one worth showing off, and let me tell you, there were only a few who did at the Erotic Arts Festival.
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