Lola Johnson and Wayfaring Photo Day 1 in Seattle
Day One(Seattle):
I would love to get into the whole plane trip of getting in detail, but my brain isn’t having that this afternoon, so I shall be brief…
How I got to my terminal at LaGuardia was a miracle in itself. As if, Mercury Retrograde was telling me,”Hold on there! Can’t let you just leave NYC so easily. That’s ridiculous! How about some unnecessary afternoon traffic and a ‘barely’ hearable terminal call out on the bus, you cool with that?”. No.
I get on my first flight (Side Note: Thank you American Airlines for letting me bring my hefty guitar case on board. You’re the best…for now at least ;). On the flight, I put in my earbuds and listen to the music that is coming out from a screen insert in the seat head in front of me. They have a selection of various artists and genres in there library. I love the eclectic music selection on the screen, but I think, ‘why is there no artists’ details? no artists’ song names?’. Fail.
I get on my next flight, with a 3 hour layover in Chicago. As I’m sitting there waiting, the airport overhead voice alerts us that the carpet on a plane (not mine) has to be changed because the carpet smells like old milk. It gets even better and the delay gets even longer, but the voice proceeds to go into detail of the rank smell coming from the carpet about every 5-10 mins, “Again ‘sorry’ ladies and gentlemen, but we can’t let anyone on the flight till we finish changing out the carpet that is smelling like crusty, hardened two week old milk. That is unbearable and embarrassing to admit”. What?!!? The voice is loud and my stomach is doing back flips.
Finally! I get on the flight, and sit next to this lovely couple from Wisconsin, who were traveling to Vancouver for a conference, regarding a Dictionary company or such. About two hours into the flight, the wife and I get talking about origins of words, politics and our mutual connection to St. Francis, Kansas (Side Note: We shall be passing through there, while leaving Denver, and I promised to go by the cemetery to see a relative’s grave site of hers. Weird? Not weird?)
Hours later, exhausted as hell, I get off the flight. I immediately get my phone off of airplane mode to contact Blair, because she landed earlier than me and was getting a ride from a friend. Phone on, message as such, “Soooo Heather and I got rear ended coming back from the airport. We are okay, the car is kinda banged up, and I hate to do it, but after this fuckin’ day, the prospect of going back down there is pretty…Yeah I’m not gonna be able to convince her to. But the light rail to downtown only takes 30 minutes or so. Here is the link…” Really Retrograde?!? I thought I left you back in NYC. Ugh. So I make my way to the light rail (I would go into detail again about how that all went down, but I already made a Facebook Status about it. Also, I’m ‘blog’ lazy at the moment) Status went as such, brief and sweet…
“Got in late last night, took light rail downtown. Got offered a free extra train ticket from a couple, vodka from a hula hoop burlesque dancer and high five from a random fellow musician bc I had a guitar. All city welcomings should be done as such”.
Next Day, awaking from a basement room, I get myself together. Blair has left early to run errands and get the car. I run upstairs to grab some tea and yogurt, so I can go outside and practice some songs, and try to plan where to busk, non-permit style, in the fine city of Seattle. The home owner was a nice italian lady, who had the most flower flourishing front yard and back. I think, how it feels so great to be outside of New York City (as I get on my social media looking at what everyone is doing in New York at the moment). The lady comes outside to upkeep her plants, and we start talking about the road trip and activism. She points out where to be on Pike Place Market to play and Left Bank Books to get my political/social brain nourished.
Blair gets back, we pack the car and head to pick up a friend of hers for some sights, scenes, and most importantly food (I was starving). All in car, we head to an area of Seattle called Ballard to eat at La Isla Cuisine. Our server Woody, was a cool dude. The food was yummy Puerto Rican food and Happy Hour is always ‘what’s up!’
We get back in the car, drop the friend off, and head to Pike Place Market, so I can get my busk on for a couple hours. I walk around Pike Place Market, but I felt it was too late to busk in that market. Quickly, I remember the hula hoop burlesque dancer telling me that busking at the entrance of the Westlake Station is a good spot and you don’t need a permit. So I went back to where I arrived from the other night, and set up shop. What I quickly noticed was that Seattle people (even the tourists) are very smiley and immediately friendly. I don’t know if it’s the $15/hr minimum wage they got going on (for shame NYC), the legalization of weed or both. I was loving it. About 30 mins into playing, and $7 plus change in the case, I get some harmonica accompaniment from a bike rider. At first, we sounded off key together (because we didn’t realize that we were both playing in two different keys ;), then we got the party started. I noticed the more upbeat songs was where everyone was giving more. It was a clear sunny day and nothing was gonna get anybody down. As my fellow player left, another biker came by asking if wanted a hit. I was like, ‘A hit of what?’, then before he could say anything, I said,’ Duh! No, it’s cool, guy’. Throughout the couple hours I was there, I got asked if I wanted some weed, something more…oh! and compliments, “Good music!, Great voice!”. The giving in this city varies in many wide ranges of compliments and amenities of no bounds.
20 something dollars later, Blair picks me up after doing a photoshoot of a pregnant friend, and we head to meet up with a childhood friend of hers at The Outback. Yes, I said ‘The Outback’. I slowly start the snobbish NYC, millennial whine about fast food joints, then suddenly I get distracted by the machines on the table. ‘What the hell is this?!’, I say. The hostess (well it was a guy, so I’m not sure if I call him ‘host’ or ‘hostess’. I’m ridiculous) tells us that it’s a new way to go through the menu, order, and pay. Basically the server becomes, completely unnecessary, but it’s almost as if they just bring the food and don’t have to try to please you conversationally by any means. My mind is blown, and yet I’m saddened by the fact that I don’t get to interact with the servers as much. Luckily though, our server, Melissa, was friendly and was mind boggled by the use of this machinery as much as we were. After the consumption of fried onions (Not sure if this is even an Australian dish really?!) and shrimp, we get back in the car and head to Ellensburg.
And so here we are! It’s late afternoon in Blair’s hometown of Ellensburg, and I will be hitting the Kittitas County Farmers Market in Ellensburg tomorrow morning, for some busking with some town folk. Til I blog again…That’s What’s up!
Sites:
Pike Place Market
www.pikeplacemarket.org/
Left Bank Books | Independent Since 1969
www.left-bank.com/
Westlake Station
metro.kingcounty.gov/
La Isla Cuisine - Seattle's Best Puerto Rican Restaurant
laislacuisine.com/
http://lolajohnson.bandcamp.com