Okay, Seattle, Now ...

Made it here and am writing this from the enormous private 2nd floor back deck this place has, which is practically the size of my house. 

Really big place overall - full sized one bedroom with large kitchen table and living room big enough for a couch and a chaise and a big round rattan coffee table, and the grooviest mod chandelier.

Amazingly, when I look up now from where I'm sitting, ie the deck, I actually have views of the Cascade Mountains in the far distance

Wow!  Can you believe that?  Okay, I did pull the photo in a bit - they are further off from here than they appear, but still!  Also, as I write this, the very soft, pleasant sounds of church bells are playing from somewhere far off.  The bedroom window, also, has views, of downtown high rises. 

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The street I'm on is East Harrison between 11th and 12th streets, in what is called the Capital Hill neighborhood.  Yes, this is the gay end of town, but I didn't choose it for that reason, believe it or not, even though the gays always know the hip/nice places.  The two other times I came to Seattle I stayed in the neighborhood known as Queen Anne, southwest of here, at the Inn at Queen Anne, a wonderful little old fashioned blonde brick apartment building turned hotel, which contains all suites with full kitchens and baths, and is very reasonably priced.  This time, however, due to both the annual music festival called Bumper Shoot, which happens right in that area and the same time, and upcoming Memorial Day, they did not have two straight weeks available for any of their rooms, nor did any of the hotels in the area, and I kept being unsatisfied with the other VRBO places I found in that area, so here I found myself.  Truthfully, it was the almost hideously, unbearably 'mod' look of the building this unit is located in that actually sold me.  That, and the fact that it was available the two weeks I needed it.

I'm physically exhausted down to muscles twitching, feet aching, and bones being sore.   Dragging my enormous suitcase behind me, which, for the fact that you're only pulling it and not carrying it, I naively would have thought would mean the weight was a non-issue, was a real nightmare today.  Just the three blocks from my Castro flat to the Castro subway stop almost killed me - I had to stop several times and switch hands.  I then of course handed it over to the airline, but then they handed it back to me upon arrival, dammit, and it was mine to drag around again. 

The light rail train coming into the city - all 12 stops - was interesting in that it was clean, new seeming, and cheap, at $2.75 for the entire trip into the city.  Also because it was mostly outside, and right away it was obvious I was not in California anymore - too green and pine-y lookin'.   Also, it struck me at one point that I now suddenly wasn't surrounded by gay people anymore.

The light rail took me to the downtown Seattle station and mall known as Westlake.  I stupidly hadn't planned for any public transit to get to this house, because I'd believed all this time I would be walking the 1.5 miles, and would have, had I not had to drag the equivalent of several heavy bowling balls behind me the whole way. 

Thankfully my google map transit thing gave me several options, and so I grabbed the number 10 bus, which I saw went northeast via 15th Street - only a few blocks away from where I needed to be.  As I only had a $5.00 bill, and one dollar bill, a ten and a twenty, I offered the driver to simply take the fiver and keep the change, since I knew he wouldn't be able to make change, anyway, and the man simply waved me off, and let me ride for free! 

I then walked down the fairly steep 3 blocks, and let myself in - up a flight of stairs with my mega suitcase - phew, my bones were achin'! 

I rested a bit, and then walked up the hill to the local QFC (Quality Food something) grocery store, filled a mini cart

And then to my true horror, realized I'd left my frigging wallet 3 blocks down the steep hill, at the apartment.  Truly, I could have cried.  If you knew the deficit my energy and strength I'm running at, you'd understand the pain it was for me to have to turn around, walk back down the hill, up the stairs to the flat, get my wallet, then walk back UP the hill - huffing and puffing as I did - buy the damned groceries, and then have to carry two quite heavy bags all the way back home.  Ugh! 

Anyway, it's done.  I ate the remainder of my airport turkey sandwich and some nice torellini and broccolli thing the QFC had, and will be going to bed nice and early, boy.  Let's just hope this house and neighborhood are dead fucking quiet tonite, or I may have to commit murder.

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A funny thing, at the QFC:  here of all thing is what they were selling at their hot soup bar:

Oh, two things I have to mention - here I am thinking, well I'm no longer in gaytown surrounded by all the homos ... and literally upon exiting this house, the very first time - to go to the QFC, there were two men crossing the street heading towards me holding hands.

Yes, I took their picture, which is grainy cuz it was far away, and obviously after they'd passed me.  It was rather sweet, I though.

Secondly, at the QFC register was the Obama as gay president Newsweek - first time I've actually seen it in person - and so I had to buy it.  There was a black guy bagging my stuff, and a cute white guy running the register wearing Elvis Costello stylish specs, and I pegged the latter as possibly gay, since he was both cute and stylish though it was the black guy who had earrings.  Anyway, the bagger dude looks at my Newsweek and says "Oh my god, 'The First Gay President'", and laughs and laughs.  I wasn't sure what he found so funny - was he being anti-gay?  So I very politely asked, "sorry, I'm just curious, what about that do you find funny?"  And he answered that it was because Obama was not gay, and then he and the cashier began discussing it, with the latter turning to him and saying "It's like when they called Clinton the first black president, because he played saxophone on Aresnio Hall" - I'm amazed these guys knew this - both were no older than 30.  And then he went on to say to his black co-worker, "You should run for president, because then we'd have our first black, gay president!"  And they both laughed. 

So I may not be in Castro anymore, but I guess I almost could be, hee hee.

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Okay, off to bed, then, before I freaking keel over.