The Power of Positively WARM Thinking

My poor sole was lacking in vitamin D and just plain old warmth. Summer ‘09 was a total bust. With constant rain and temperatures topping out in the high sixties I never attained my bronze fertility goddess glow and entered the fall/ winter a sickly shade of pearlized lavender. By mid Jan I was DONE with this weather and sent out a missive begging my palls to partner me in a jaunt to anyplace that served tropical drinks under swaying palms. My peeps all fell flat – too busy, too broke, too whatever but I had sent out my call to the world and like most things in my life the answer came streaming back from a source that I had never thought to tap. A day after my cry for a vacation cohort an old buddy noticed my ‘on line’ status and shot me a quick IM bemoaning his current fate; he was trapped on a lengthy business trip at a luxury resort down in sunny Florida. As we exchanged pleasantries I logged into my Jet Blue account hovering my blinking cursor over the very tempting BUY NOW button as I impatiently awaited an invitation to stow away on yet another friend’s business trip. Within the half hour my flight and rental car were booked and within 45 minutes I was rummaging around my apartment un-space bagging my summertime togs.

Fast forward one week later I was napping poolside with the sun streaming down turning my nose and chest a warm shade of magenta. It was mind boggling that in less time it takes me to travel by train out to Mom’s on LI I was transported to a totally different world – how could this still be January? What kind of alternate universe did I travel too? No coat, no gloves, not even socks! I was wary of the whole “bare feet’ in the middle of January – it usually takes careful planning and several ‘treatments” beginning late March to have my toes ready for prime time Memorial Day weekend (my winter feet are not prepared for this type of surprise outing). But with T-bone’s prodding, “Let those toes out there! They want o be out!” I scrubbed them down, lubed ‘em up, coated them with a lovely neutral polish and set them free! Ahhhhh T-Bone was correct, my piggies were in hog heaven.

The Seattle Ed.; The Remainder

After traipsing around Washington State I spent another 3 full days back in Seattle. We went to the zoo, finally sat down for a real dinner of local seafood, and I took some time to wander ‘round downtown and soak up the local flavor. During my solo excursions (Scooter had to get back to work) I checked out Pioneer Square, got my culture on at the Seattle Art Museum, and found some time to do a little shopping.

All too soon the visit was over and Scooter and I were at Mecca Cafe enjoying our last meal together and answering the table top trivia questions. Two beers down and back at the scene shop Scooter called for my cab as I jolted back to the restaurant upon discovering I had left my blackberry on the table – yikes! Communicator back in my possession with just a few minutes to spare I took one look at Scooter and broke down into the ugly cry. You know the ugly cry, it’s that big gasping guffawing crying that makes you heave for air and drains every ounce of energy immediately in response to the explosion of emotion – yeah that one. Scooter tried humor to soothe my fragile state but I still slobbered tears and snot all over his T shirt. Out at the cab we bear hugged, I slobbered more onto Scooter’s neck then goodbyes were exchanged with promises of future visits to NYC and Seattle respectively.

That’s it, first Seattle visit down and an innumerable number to follow for the rest of eternity.

The Seattle Ed.; Road Trip to HOH Rain Forest

The drive to the HOH Rain Forest was not as lengthy as expected. Maybe because I learned to drive on Long Island which means if there is an open road you DRIVE or maybe because at higher altitudes you move through space quicker – whatever - either way we made great time.

Enjoying the scenery on US 101 was only a portion of our delightful drive, the other part was the interesting town and street names that popped up along the way; names that stuck in our pea heads, awarding us with multiple days of laughter. Here is a list of some of our favorites, and please note to fully reap the benefits of the French names read them aloud in a VERY offensive bastardized French accent, or just ask Scooter to send you a recording:

· Kitchen Dick Road · Humptulips · McNut · Pysht · Beaver · La Push · Le Peoul

We arrived at the rain forest a little after 4pm but with the summer months approaching we had at least another 5.5 hours of sunlight to utilize. The ranger station was closed however a very friendly earth mother was at the ready to aid us in choosing the perfect nature trail and to inform us that the hand written notation on the official “WARNING ELKS CHARGING” sign was not very funny. Armed with our new knowledge about the Hall of Mosses (or Hall of ‘Moses’ as we took to calling it – of course), clarification that the Elk were truly NOT charging five dollars, and the hopes of a banana slug sighting we headed into the great green enchanted woods.

Once ensconced in the lushness of the tall trees and the hanging moss I found it to be, ummm, less, moist than expected. Unfortunately Washington has been rather dry lately so the Rain Forest was just forest sans rain. It was still lovely however, and I quickly found myself hypnotized by the combined soft sounds of the breeze skipping along the top of the old growth canopy and the rushing water careening down the HOH River.

We wandered the weaving pathways, inspecting each fallen colossal truck, some with full grown succulents feeding off the old nutrients. While on our journey of discovery Scooter recounted a story from Carl Sagan who logically concluded that where there are ferns there are dinosaurs. So by following this course of reasoning we both agreed that the HOH Rain Forest must be a haven for such prehistoric beasts. In addition upon discovering giant clover patches we expanded on Sagan’s scientific reasoning to presume that where there are giant clovers there must be leprechauns. It was obvious to both of us that the HOH Rain Forest was a land that time forgot where banana slugs engineered a civil war between the dinosaurs and the leprechauns, utilizing the Elk (acting as soldiers of fortune, charging $5.00 cash) to incite the rivalry between the two warring factions. The leprechauns, forever crafty and insistent on space travel for defensive positioning, attempted to utilize the towering old growth trees as their launch pads for space exploration however sadly the dinosaurs, too cumbersome for space travel, were determined to knock over every massive tree trunk to impede the leprechauns from ever escaping the earth’s atmosphere.

We exited the Rain Forest at 6pm without an actual sighting of dinosaurs, leprechauns, or banana slugs however Scooter did get a quick glance of an elk as we sped through the park gates, thankfully he had collected his quota for the day and was not charging.

At the T in the road we had the opportunity to choose either RIGHT, returning in the direction from whence we came with the certain knowledge that within 2 hours we would be enjoying a dinner of Dungeness Crab along the banks of the Strait of Juan de Fuca or LEFT, taking us 20 miles further west, depositing us on the shores of the Pacific Ocean where only armed with our blind optimism (and our Google Maps enabled Blackberries) we would discover a land overflowing with a cornucopia of fresh seafood. Guess what we did???

The Seattle Ed.; Road Trip to The Mountains

Saturday - Greeted by a gray overcast sky but we were not deterred from our 2.5 hour road trip to the Olympic Nation Park. I did all my pre-trip planning, printed out the appropriate documents and maps while Scott readied the tunes on his bursting ipod and checked the ferry schedule. Out the door with cameras, extra socks, sun block and all other adventure-ish paraphernalia, into our amazing ride, then off to the harbor for a ferry cruise across Elliot Bay to Bremerton.

The morning was awesome as we drove West. The weather began to break rather quickly and the warm sun burned away the clouds. The drive was glorious. Winding roads, glistening lakes and ponds, and bushy green trees that lined both sides of the road like fuzzy emerald walls. In no time we entered the town of Port Angeles on the North Central side of the park and decided to nourish our peradventure bodies with Jack In The Box. Looking back, knowing what I know now, I would have ordered more than just an egg and cheese biscuit and a small OJ.

Once inside the park proper Scooter proceeded to check out the naturalist exhibitions in the main ranger station, learning most importantly what to do if approached by a cougar while I conversed with a very friendly federal ranger who was rather impressed with my knowledge of the park and its features. After several minutes of deep discussion the ranger and I agreed that Scooter and I should visit Hurricane Ridge and the HOH Rain Forrest – perfect!

Back into the Hybrid we proceeded to make the climb up the side of the Olympic Mountains to an altitude of 5,240 feet. Along the 17 mile drive up to the ridge we were both stymied by the grandness of the snow capped mountains and the hazy valley below. We pulled off the road just prior to reaching the ranger station at Hurricane Ridge to snap some photos and drink in the calming serenity of the great outdoors. Outside the car the air was thin and crisp and the deafening silence was only disrupted by the bird calls echoing up from far below.

Just a few more yards and we were parked at the base of Hurricane Hill where we were greeted by the sight of many other nature loving visitors, some dressed appropriately (jeans and hiking shoes) and some inappropriately (spandex and flip flops). Once again we spoke to the local ranger and decided to take her advice and climb the paved 1.6 mile path to an elevation of 5,757 feet to the top of Hurricane Hill, what a good decision. The views were spectacular and at the tippy top of the ridge we sat alongside two Buddhist monks who were resplendent in their fiery orange robes against the deep blue sky.

As we picked our way back down the snow and slush covered path Scooter was unrightfully “tisked-ticked” by an alpenstock yielding septuagenarian Austrian who mistook his chivalry for unruly American nature hating behavior. Scooter’s response to the persnickety finger wagging was to shout “I moved off the path to give YOU ROOM TO PASS!!!!!” – but she just raised an eyebrow at me and continued her assent to the top. In addition to the erroneous European admonishment we were also confronted with an unruly gang of “Frisbee anywhere” players who thought it necessary to trot down the path while hurling a flying disc over our heads – it was their spandex clad woman (?) cohort who gave me the eye as they passed, just jonesing for a rumble, I however did not oblige.

Now back in the safety of our trusty non gas guzzling vehicle we set our sights on the HOH Rain Forest, a mere 2 hour drive away…varoooooommmmmmm

Blog-o-rama; The Seattle Edition

Seattle 1st Full Day

Friday, Scooter up early and off to work while Kandi and I went out for local Seattle coffee and a walk around their AMAZING neighborhood. Mansions with overflowing gardens lined the streets of their hill top hood, one more luscious than the last. It was a fantastic morning, sun streaming, flowers blooming, just being outside without my jacket and umbrella was a treat (NYC has been underwater for 2 months).

At midday we gingerly traversed the GREAT HILL to meet up with Scooter at his shop then spent some time at the animated fountain at the base of the Space Needle soaking up more sun while kids played tag with the spurting orb. Off again through Seattle Center, past the mini amusement park, to the Monorail that whisked us away to the heart of downtown and closer to our final destination, Pikes Place Market.

The market was amazing, and crowded, and full of life. The ‘fish boys’ were putting on a show but the celebrities of the stalls were the flowers. Overflowing buckets of every type and color imaginable with sellers creating bursting bouquets for just $10, I wanted to buy them all, or at least take a full memory card of photos.

A quick preview of the market then up to a restaurant with a view of the harbor. Scooter picked out a local brew for me (he was my personal Beer Sommelier for the extent of my visit) which I pared with a local crab and shrimp salad …yummmm. After lunch Scoot had to jet to a top level meeting so as planned Kandi took me on a tour of the entire market and surrounding area. The weather remained perfect and even though the streets were teeming with tourists it was just lovely. We popped into every specialty shop; imported cheeses and meats, German chocolates and French baked delicacies, you name it, they had it. Kandi even found time to introduce me to one of her favorites, a pumpkin cookie with frosting – that was something.

Late afternoon at the base of the Space Needle Kandi handed me back off to Scooter then we were off to pick up our rental car for our upcoming road trips. We walked and walked, and walked, until we finally strolled into Enterprise Car Rental. Avis got nothing on Enterprise, (see Oct. blog for Avis rant), the agents were great, they had my car, and we were rollin’ in our Ford Escape Hybrid in minutes flat.

Back up at the apartment I plopped myself into the comfy chair in the bay window and enjoyed a large cup of pink soda – my hosts think of everything.

Scoot and I dined at a local pub for dinner then just spent the remainder of our Friday night plying Wii and hanging out….perfect. I miss Scooter so much here in NYC, just the easy comfortable way we communicate and laugh. We don’t need to be doing anything really it’s just that we’re together.

On our return walk from dinner we heard the rhythmic chorus of a hip hop track pouring out of a local watering hole. The words and backbeat were so entrancing that it stuck with us as we traveled the several blocks back to the apartment, Kick, Push…Kick, Push…Kick, Push. We were certain the song must be about child birthing, however after a quick google search we were pleasantly surprised to discover that the meaning behind the lyrics belonged to the act of skateboarding. That Lupe Fiasco is a true poet!

Jet Blah II: below the Mason Dixon line

A few days later when I was returning to NY I thought things would flow much smoother, it’s not JFK, it’s the South, they are supposed to be helpful, right? The terminal was calm and relatively empty, no lines no waiting. There were only 2 agents – but no big deal the place was deserted. I printed my boarding pass at the self serve station, stepped up to the counter, then placed it down along with my Driver’s License. Not sure if the design of the counter was done purposefully but the top surface slopes down towards the agent and it has a rounded edge so of course my pass and my ID slipped gingerly over the precipice and disappeared out of my view onto what I thought was her desk top. The agent didn’t make any gesture to retrieve my run away articles but instead flatly informed me “They’re gone”. I popped onto my tippy toes to spy over the counter top only to discover that the agent’s desk top sloped back towards the counter with a 3” wide chasm that was a portal to the 6th dimension. I said, “Ok so what do we do now?” her reply, “Nothing, I mean I can’t do anything”.

She offered to print a new boarding pass but she couldn’t do that until I handed her my government ID… you see where this is going? We danced in this circle for about 3 rounds with her asking for my ID and me reminding her that it was under her desk top. Finally the agent next to her looked over, bent down, OPEDED the cabinet doors under the desk top, and started fishing around. Funny cause neither of the agents appeared to be bothered by the sudden influx of passengers waiting to check in as the line swelled to about a dozen inpatient New Yorkers.

Tada! Agent Two resurfaced with a Drivers License in hand gently placing it on Agent One’s desk top. Agent One typed a few key strokes then without looking at me said, “Banks?” I assumed this was some sort of ‘agent speak' so I did not respond. However still staring at her monitor she once again uttered, “Banks?” I said, “I’m sorry I don’t understand what you are asking me?” Still buried in her monitor she gruffly barked “Banks, your name, Eric David Banks.” then slammed the Drivers License onto the counter. I held up the Georgia State Drivers License with a photo of Eric David Banks, a 52 year old African American male next to my face, raised an eyebrow and said “REALLY?” Agent One tore the ID from my hand, tapped #2 and announced “She says this isn’t her”. Agent Two gave me the once over, scouring the ID for any similarities that MAY connect me to Eric David Banks, but unfortunately she had to agree that I was NOT a black man and disappeared once again below the counter in search of an ID that would be a closer representation of my countenance.

My NY ID was located and I did get onto the flight – however I do wonder about poor Eric David Banks and if he ever returned to Georgia without his ID.