Marc
Seattle, Seattle. Oh, you drizzly town. I have a day and a half to kill here. Alone, which is kind of different. I’ve never really been on my own in a strange city with free time before, so I don’t know what to do with myself. In the morning, I’m going to drive up to Edmonds, Washington and get a ferry schedule, because that’s where I’ve got to work first thing Monday morning. I was thinking about going to Canada, but that might be too much trouble, and I know I’ll be at the border later in the week. Either way, I guess I’ll figure out something. If there’s anyone that reads this, and has been to Seattle doing touristy things before, let me know what’s good and what’s bad. I know I’m trying to fool myself into thinking that people actually read this thing, but we’ve got a few links up. Maybe someone will see it. Who knows?
I’m actually on the plane right now, I just figured I would cut and paste it, then publish it later. There’s nothing more fun than riding on a plane with a huge hangover. Give it up for that. As soon as they hit the jet engines, I lean my head back, close my eyes, and try to gauge which direction I’m going in. Try it sometime. Takeoff can sometimes feels like you’re rapidly descending. I was looking at the Rocky Mountains a minute ago, and it just blows my mind. I’ve lived in Illinois my whole life. The concept of huge chunks of rock just bounding up all over the place is numbing. Even though I’ve driven through them, even though I’ve gotten lost in them, I still have trouble believing in them. If that makes any sense. But they’re gone now, and the Flight Attendants are trying to make me eat.
I don’t partake in the dinner services. I can’t stomach the food here. It’s almost like they decide on what the worst possible combinations of meats and vegetables could be. Pork with turnips. Chicken with poisenberry. Steak with kiwi. Some people might think it sounds appetizing, but not me. It’s all runny and stringy and nasty. Last year I vowed never to eat airline food again (unless it’s the sandwich snack boxes). So far, I’ve stuck with it. Good for me. Boo for them.
Seattle, Seattle. Oh, you drizzly town. I have a day and a half to kill here. Alone, which is kind of different. I’ve never really been on my own in a strange city with free time before, so I don’t know what to do with myself. In the morning, I’m going to drive up to Edmonds, Washington and get a ferry schedule, because that’s where I’ve got to work first thing Monday morning. I was thinking about going to Canada, but that might be too much trouble, and I know I’ll be at the border later in the week. Either way, I guess I’ll figure out something. If there’s anyone that reads this, and has been to Seattle doing touristy things before, let me know what’s good and what’s bad. I know I’m trying to fool myself into thinking that people actually read this thing, but we’ve got a few links up. Maybe someone will see it. Who knows?
I’m actually on the plane right now, I just figured I would cut and paste it, then publish it later. There’s nothing more fun than riding on a plane with a huge hangover. Give it up for that. As soon as they hit the jet engines, I lean my head back, close my eyes, and try to gauge which direction I’m going in. Try it sometime. Takeoff can sometimes feels like you’re rapidly descending. I was looking at the Rocky Mountains a minute ago, and it just blows my mind. I’ve lived in Illinois my whole life. The concept of huge chunks of rock just bounding up all over the place is numbing. Even though I’ve driven through them, even though I’ve gotten lost in them, I still have trouble believing in them. If that makes any sense. But they’re gone now, and the Flight Attendants are trying to make me eat.
I don’t partake in the dinner services. I can’t stomach the food here. It’s almost like they decide on what the worst possible combinations of meats and vegetables could be. Pork with turnips. Chicken with poisenberry. Steak with kiwi. Some people might think it sounds appetizing, but not me. It’s all runny and stringy and nasty. Last year I vowed never to eat airline food again (unless it’s the sandwich snack boxes). So far, I’ve stuck with it. Good for me. Boo for them.
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