Small Town News

Strictly Joyce

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Keith and I spent last weekend in Seattle as big city folk. Our daughter-in-law generously offered her mother's home, since it was empty for the weekend, and it was great. We were close to the city bus route when we parked the car on Friday night so it wasn't moving until Sunday night when we'd hit the freeway.

Saturday morning we walked to Pike Place and explored, acting very touristy. Took pictures and looked at the water and fish throwers. We bought Royal City spud potato chips. I even bought a Tagine. Look it up. Our nephew, Victor, picked us up and we had tea at him and Marjan's Magnolia home. From there we wanted to see the Fremont troll. A quick check of a map showed it was about 17 minutes away. So, loaded down with two bags of stuff (you are in the city and you never know if you might need a coat, a protein bar, a magazine, some water, a pound of coffee beans, a roll of toilet paper, binoculars, camera, the aforementioned Tagine, and an assortment of useless things) we head out. One hour and 40 minutes and four miles later, we found Fremont. I told Keith I wanted to sit and have a beer. Oh look he said, here's a bench. It doesn't come with a beer, I said. So we forged ahead and found a cute, funky sidewalk bar (there are about 20 to choose from) and had lamb sliders and a couple of beers. We hiked the few extra blocks and found the troll. It was worth it. This big hulking cement troll under the Fremont Bridge. So big his hand is clutching a full size Volkswagen bug.

At 7 o'clock at night I told Keith I was not walking another four miles. If my foot hadn't been so sore, I'd have put it down. He reluctantly agreed (the man is Scottish and when he gets a burr up his kilt it's hard to make him change his mind) so we found a bus stop. Right here I'll tell you, buses aren't friendly to us. They have our number. And we've never been able to figure out theirs. We learned 30 some years ago in San Francisco that you can't trust city transit. They post stuff that is a big lie and you'll ride buses all over until they come to the end of the line at night and there you are, stuck in front of the Cow Palace after dark and have to call a cab and you don't have a phone. I'm just saying that could happen.

We tried to look like we knew what we were doing as we read.the schedule, but finally gave up and asked several different people. Now, how could everybody who was waiting there be new to the city and have no idea what bus to take?

We finally got back to Capitol Hill and settled in. It's dark, I'm pooped and Keith says, hey, it looks like restaurants are only about 12 blocks away. Which one do you want? Let's be real big city folks and order pizza delivery, I said. I'm brilliant.

So the next morning we head for Qwest Field. It's another walk, two to three miles on more concrete but who cares. Beautiful weather. Fun people. We are almost within tasting distance of the tailgate party we are headed to (best pulled pork sandwiches you have ever tasted the kids told us). Keith stops dead in his tracks and says Oh No. At least I'm sure that's what he meant to say. You didn't, I said. HE LEFT OUR GAME TICKETS BACK ON CAPITOL HILL!!!!

We start walking back up the hill keeping an eye open for a bus stop. I'm hitting him with a Tagine, he's crying, things look pretty bad. Now, I don't imagine this happens much in downtown Seattle, but a bus driver, I'm not kidding here, stops in the middle of the road and says, "You're lost." So you now get the idea of how bad we looked. She graciously loads us up and goes through a very detailed description of what buses to ride to get back up and then back down and says we'll probably make it for kickoff. We get off at the stop she says and Keith starts looking at the schedule.

I, on the other hand have just about had it, so I step out into traffic, scream at a cab who instantly stops for the crazy lady. I open the door, fly in and yell to kilt boy to move it. The dude at the wheel was great. Got us there and back in some kind of record and it only cost us twenty bucks including a big tip. The bus would have cost four and we'd still be riding it around and around Occidental Avenue.

WE WON! Great game, good time, time to head back. Keith goes to a bus stop and looks at a schedule. I step into traffic, scream at a cab, and the rest is history. I came away from Seattle with a whole new talent. I can't figure out public transportation, but I can stop a cab dead in its tracks. Not bad for a country bumpkin.



Copyright 2010 Mattawa Area News, Mattawa, Washington. All Rights Reserved. This content, including derivations, may not be stored or distributed in any manner, disseminated, published, broadcast, rewritten or reproduced without express, written consent from SmallTownPapers, Inc.

© 2011 Mattawa Area News Mattawa, Washington. All Rights Reserved. This content, including derivations, may not be stored or distributed in any manner, disseminated, published, broadcast, rewritten or reproduced without express, written consent from DAS.

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