Travel Thursday Encore: Last Day in Seattle

My last “continental” breakfast: an orange, a donut, orange juice. I think I was still feeling the amazingly pleasurable aftereffects of yesterday’s Kobe burger. {Yes, I suppose it could have been the waitress, shut up.}
Had to get to the airport early, but not “too” early, so I had time to explore. Unfortunately I was feeling too tired to go looking for some old haunts from previous trips downtown, as I had planned, so instead I laid in bed; don’t ask me what I thought or did during that time, I don’t remember. Since the bus to the airport stopped a couple of blocks from the hotel, I figured that made up for not searching for the futuristic movie theater where I saw “Lawnmower Man 2,” for instance, among other places I’d visited in previous trips that I wanted to see again. . . just not too much.
Glad I remembered the monorail doesn’t start up till 11, which would have been a lot of walking with a big backpack for nothing. This time I did catch the express instead of the stop-every-block, so I had to put up with less scenery, or rather the same amount but speeded up too quickly to worry about.
Sea-Tac sometimes gets silly, but there were no problems passing by security on this trip, even though the lines were longer than Long Beach and I had to struggle a bit more with my boots. The guy right before me in the security line forgot the rule about no lighters and chucked his in the bin with a look of regret. Didn’t see why, it was just a plain plastic thing you can get at any drugstore–not exactly a heirloom or even with a sports team on it–but he probably hated begging for a light as soon as the plane landed.
You can tell Sea-Tac is a “modern” airport because it has a “family” restroom.
Saw a young guy wearing U Dub gear and we talked for a while, until it came out that his father usta be the coach at. . . oh, shit, this guy was the kid of my college coach! What are the frickin’ odds? Surreal. And since we didn’t get along–me and the coach, I mean–I certainly didn’t want to relive any memories, and was glad when I was told Daddy was not coming to the airport to pick him up. Though it did make me feel a little bit good, in a narcissistic way, that the kid had decided against playing for his father and went to another U. Ha!
As I saw a Qantas flash by outside the window, I wondered if they still showed the pre-flight video of a pre-fame and always beautiful Tara Fitzgerald doing all the safety procedures. Then I wondered if I could buy it. . . it’s one of her best works. {okay, that was a little bit mean, but she’ll never read this.
I hope.}
I CAN’T BELIEVE THEY WANT SEVEN DOLLARS FOR THAT SMOOTHIE! The whole eating experience was so in contrast to the beginning of the trip at the Long Beach airport, with the bored servers and the long waiting.
Heavy G takeoff–thought Sea-Tac was longer. I’ve flown out of Sea-Tac so many times, but I don’t remember anything like this one. In fact, don’t remember anything so heavy G since Ayers Rock. Not as bad as a carrier takeoff, of course, but enough to bring some flashbacks as you wait for your eyeballs to plop back into place.

Seattle, airport, Sea-Tac
The soft drinks and juice were free, and the beer was five bucks; it just seemed really funny to me that the flight attendant was checking IDs! You think that was in her job description when she signed up?
On the flight up, Alaska had given packs of “trail mix,” with part of the devilish brew being garlic and onion powder, but this time it was pretzels! As an experienced traveler I had brought my own provisions, but pretzels were gravy!. . . so to speak. Ok, dessert, then.
This flight seemed a lot longer than the first, probably because the woman sitting next to me was reading and didn’t want to talk. So what, I could listen to music for two hours, no different than an El Lay commute, except there was nothing to look at. Then I noticed that across the aisle a man was reading–the cover had huge print, like it was proud of itself–“The Encyclopedia of Unusual Sex Practices.”
It actually took longer to take the bus home than the flight, and that’s not counting the baggage carrousel dance and the wait for the first bus. And I don’t care what she says, I was NAWT flirting with the girl with the Suthin’ accent and bright green nails. . .

;o)

Tell me what you think I need to know. . .

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.