I got into Seattle late last night. I was due to arrive Monday night after leaving the conference hotel in Harrisburg, PA that afternoon. I got up to Newark and had a three hour layover before a schedule 6 p.m. departure to the west coast. I camped out at the Brooklyn Brewery Jazz Bar and caught up on some e-mails while looking out on the skyline of NYC. As a sipped a Brooklyn Lager -- I was assured by the proprietor that it kicked Sam Adam's ass -- I became a bit nostalgic for previous visits to the city and made plans with Alison to head up there for New Year's. As I wrapped up our conversation together and made my way to the gate, I heard that the flight to Seattle was overbooked and that Continental was looking for volunteers to leave Tuesday. A hotel voucher, meal vouchers and $500 in credit later, I was postponing my plans.
I got in touch with Andrew and Sara (recently married in Hawaii in August) and was invited to join them and Sara's mother for dinner at Andrew and Sara's apartment in Mid-town. I was going back, back to New York! I hopped on the air train to the NJ transit station and took a 30 minute ride to Penn Station and Madison Square Garden. I made my way over to their apartment and enjoyed a dinner of potatoes and carrots -- they hadn't necessarily planned a vegetarian entrée and looked at me a little disparagingly when I explained my unique dining proclivities.
We talked and looked at a photo book of Andrew and Sara's trip to Egypt, Greece, and Turkey before I said my goodbyes and left with Andrew to watch the second half of the Monday Night Football game at a Irish bar. I stayed until the end of the game and weathered a monsoon of sorts outside. By the time Favre had blown another game, the rain had stopped and I walked the 10 blocks or so back to the train station. Much to my dismay, the trains were being held about 45 minutes to allow for the traffic leaving the Jets Stadium to clear. Pulling out of NYC at 1:40 a.m, I got back to the airport around 2:15 a.m. and waited 40 minutes for my Ramada Plaza Conference Center and Hotel shuttle that never came. Instead, I paid the Hampton Inn shuttle driver $5 to take me to my prescribed hotel. I got in after 3 a.m. and, despite puzzling over a door latch that had been ripped off, I finally went to sleep.
Tuesday, I got up and made my way back the Newark Liberty Airport. Arriving four and half hours before my flight left me plenty of time to study for the LSAT. I grabbed a green tea from a partnering coffee shop and settled in at the Heineken Lounge. Brain exhausted, it was time to cash in my meal vouchers. Pooling together the lunch and dinner coupons left me with the small fortune of $20 for dinner. Mexican it was and I wolfed down a very palatable California shrimp roll dinner.
Barely stopping to catch my breath I raced over to my gate to check on my flight. Delayed and over booked! I briefly pondered the opportunity to collect another $500 voucher and possibly of cancelling my transcontinental trip altogether. Yet, I had a date with destiny on the west coast and I was determined to get out there. Technical issues conquered, the flight was ready to be boarded.
Being sequestered to window seat in a three person row, I allowed myself to dry out and nervously hoped that I wouldn't have to get up to go pee during the six hour flight. I looked out the window and snapped a few photos of an orange, yellow, purple October sky before briefly nodding off, as the plane departed, reading a long winded article in The Economist about Zimbabwe's political troubles.
In the air, I passed the time crossing and re-crossing my legs, earnestly erasing mistakes as a worked through my LSAT prep book, and trying not to elbow the guy next to me . Luckily, I had a pair ear plugs because there were two kids in front of me who were playing some sort of personal gaming device and encouraging each other with incessant chats of "You can do it, you can do it, you can do it". While I generally support the spirit of teamwork, I gave serious consideration to whether or not I was the type of guy to stand up and tell a kid on a plane to, "Please, shut the hell up." Eventually, I realized I wasn't
Landing in Seattle, Angie, who I had met at Andrew and Sara's wedding in August, picked me up. We talked about her husband, Tom, and life in Seattle as we made our way to their beautiful home just north of the city.
I woke up this morning and Angie dropped me off at Enterprise. I picked up the rental as the agent looked at me dubiously as a sputtered assurances that I had car insurance and he spied the book Angie had given me -- "Seattle's Best Dive Bars." Possibly despite his better judgement, he tossed me the keys and I raced out of the parking lot. On the way into the city, I stopped off at an area called Green Lake to pen some thoughts and go for a run around the three-mile lake.
I've got a recommendation for a coffee shop to sit down and drudge through some more studying before checking out a Picasso exhibit that just opened at the Seattle Museum of Art. It's only touring three cities stateside and figured it'd be worth the time. I'm meeting up with Tom, presumably at one of the previously mentioned "Dive Bars" later this afternoon and hoping to cap off the evening with a twilight tour of the Space Needle. Tomorrow, I've got a hot date with the University of Washington Law School and Criminal Procedure class.
After a year living on an island 19 miles by two miles, life of the road has its perks. Hope all is well and check Facebook to see when this road show will be pulling into a town near you.
Best,
Steve
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