Who ARE these people?

Last night I attended a free-bee mojito party sponsored by the concierge company that services my swanky office building. They hosted this event at High Bar, a midtown roof top lounge that one must gain entry through a series of velvet ropes and speak easy like basement catacombs.

Once at the penthouse level my plus one and I found Bookie 2, poured ourselves some free drinks then decided to do some investigating. The intimate outdoor space was furnished with brightly striped low couches and large square beds festooned with canvas drapes, with a BBQ, bar and DJ area. We plopped ourselves in an area marked ‘reserved’ since it afforded us the best vantage point to view the crowd and boy was it an odd mix. I thought it would be mostly business peeps from our building but it turned out that there were two very different parties being hosted concurrently. On the edge of the roof along the row of couches sat the office-y types (mostly woman, except for the one couple making sweet sweet love on the bed in the corner) while in the center the reserved banquets held a LA trashy crowd who I believe may be solely responsible for the influx of New York City’s bed bug infestation. This group of trendy, oh so bored with life anorexics were draped over one another smoking and texting. The guys looked to be in their 40’s with teen age haircuts and frosted tips, skinny jeans, and $200 vintage T shirts that had been strategically hand distressed by some top designer. The girls were mostly 23 with no pants, ratty hair (that oh so dirty messy I just rolled out of bed and did some blow look), all with a penchant for showing some sort of foundation garment. Who are these people? Where do they come from? Why don’t they smile or laugh? These are not my people – entertaining to watch, kinda like being at the zoo – but not my people.

So the immediate company was swell, the free drinks were yummy, the view was lovely and the people watching was a hoot however it was not the evening that I had hoped for – oh well.

Too Luscious for the Hampton Jitney

For the past 13 years I’ve been riding the Hampton Jitney to visit my mom in the bucolic sea side town of Sag Harbor. The Hampton Jitney for those of you not submersed in the Manhattan / Hamptons culture is a coach bus that shuttles self important travelers (moi excluded) from the Upper East Side to the Hamptons for double the price of the LIRR. During the ‘season’ the bus is riddled with swankers and hipsters smacking people upside the head with their oversized Louis Vuitton duffle bags as they trudge down the aisle while screaming into their cell phones, “What, What? I’m on the Jitney. The JITNEY? What? Who’s at the house? WHO’S at the HOUSE?” However I being the consummate Jitney passenger travel light, check my bags under the bus and enter demurely only with my purse, an ipod and a black berry set to vibrate. Once on the coach I always choose the perfect window seat, halfway between the stench of the rear bathroom and the subzero air cooled temperatures of the driver’s area, then tuck in for my 3 hour ride.

It’s odd then when you compare my very considerate behavior combined with the fact that I do not spread out an entire NY Times, Dean and Deluca picnic, or any other flotsam and jetsam onto the seat next to me to thwart others from claiming it as their own that I am ALWAYS the last one chosen for a seat partner. People will glance at the very empty seat next to me then as their eyes scan across to me they immediately retreat to find a more acceptable seat partner. “Acceptable Partner” could be the guy sleeping with his laptop and full briefcase on the adjoining seat, or the girl traveling with her yorkie, or really anybody that is not me. True it is nice at times to be the ONLY passenger on a packed bus to have two seats to myself but it’s disturbing after 13 years to still be declared “Too Fat” to share.

My bottom is juicy; it’s one of my three best features (so my fans have attested to) however I do not SPILL into the adjacent seat nor do I take up more room than any other size 16. I don’t hog the arm rest, I’m well groomed and dress more appropriately than the majority of the passengers, I don’t eat, drink, or even get up to the use the bathroom so the only reason I have found to explain this attitude towards me is that fat is contagious.

It is 100% certain that I will be the last chosen on the Jitney however every time I am left alone it still amazes me. Just last Friday after the driver secured the cabin for our 100 mile journey out East I actually stood up and scanned the entire bus to see if I was just paranoid or if I was truly the ONLY person left with an empty… and yes once again the cheese stood alone.

I know I shouldn’t allow other’s actions to affect my own image – and truly I do not respect or admire these strangers nor would I ever want to trade my life for theirs or the lives’ of the faceless tools on the other side of their cell phone conversations – however it’s never nice to be unjustly singled out. It’s funny though when I took the bus down to DC I was one of the first to be chosen as a travel partner and my seat buddy was a young charming international playboy whose parents were delegates at the UN, so that either means that people who take the bus to DC are less discriminating or my under 21 buddy liked him some “junk”.

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.; Marine Mammal Voyeurs

Sunday – The three of us were up early and set out for a lovely Sunday Brunch. We walked to a local joint at the top of the hill and even though the weather was not perfect (a bit overcast) we opted to sit outside. After returning my lipstick stained coffee mug and my water, which had a “floater”, I was happily satisfied with my tasty blueberry waffles.

Back to the apartment before noon, Scooter and I had plenty of time to add more warm layers of clothing in preparation for our day’s adventure – Whale Watching! Once again we packed our sundries and hopped into our trusty vehicle. Only a 1.5 hour drive north on Rt. 5 to Anacortes – after the previous day’s driving that seemed like a trip around the block.

We headed out of Seattle and in no time Scooter was fighting the napping urge and once again I acquiesced. Prior to sailing off to Hush - a - Bye Mountain, Scooter’s last words were, “Just stay on here and exit at Anacortes”, so I did. I drove and drove and had a grand time playing with the voice activated controls for the ipod until I had that weird feeling that I had been driving for a bit too long. I unfolded the written directions that Scooter stored in the console and read, “Exit 230, at Burlington”…. Hmmmm Burlington that sounded familiar. I saw the sign for the next exit, #232, but I didn’t know if the numbers were ascending or descending, meaning I either drove 2 exits out of my way OR I had 2 exits still to go. I slowed down and attempted to stir my passenger however it took some shouting and a major shove to rouse him from his deep slumber. His cognition returned just as we were parallel with the exit ramp at which point he shouted “Get OFF!” With a quick right turn across 3 lanes of traffic we were deposited onto a country road with Scooter dialing up our coordinates on Google Maps. After a few clicks on the ol’ blackberry we were back onto Rt. 5 now traveling south for 2 exits (whoops, sorry) but we made it to Anacortes and checked in with our whale watching crew ahead of schedule.

3:30pm we boarded our awaiting vessel and while the other passengers raced to get seats on the open top deck Scooter and I scored the two best seats onboard. We camped out on the rear of the boat under the top deck where we discovered two chairs and a table with a charming flowered cloth. There we sat, far away from the rabble on our private poop deck (the bathrooms were directly behind us) with the girth of the boat shielding us from the wind and the bright sun warming our faces. As the boat gained full cruising speed the half frozen huddled masses from the upper desk came streaming down the stairs and crammed themselves into the small interior. We still however remained outside celebrating not only our good fortune in selecting the most perfect of locations but also for knowing how to properly dress for a nautical adventure.

It was a while until we spotted 2 gray whales and by that time the temperature had dropped down into the 40’s and the sun was replaced by a low gray sky. After bidding adieu to the oceanic behemoths we continued our aquatic exploration around some craggy outcroppings where we discovered eagles, a puffin, and even some seals bobbing around. Blimey it was good fun, and so worth the 2.5 hours out at sea in the cold….I’m ready for a good dinner now, let’s bring her in! Nope, not so fast….and let’s file this one under, “Ask how long the trip is before leaving port”.

At 6pm Scooter and I were done with the cruise but the cruise was not done with us. We had hit the wall but our captain had only hit the halfway point, great. We were cold and hungry and since we both dropped Dramamine we were falling asleep on our feet. The weather forced us indoors where we appropriated some European couple’s love nest (they were outside looking at birds, or something, whatever) but we allowed them reentry upon their return. Under better circumstances we would have been very charming however neither of us were on our A game. We sat arms folded chins tucked down into our chests with our leaded eyelids closing as the freak show unfolded in front of us. Sitting apart from our fellow passengers for the previous 2.5 hours afforded us the opportunity to exist in our own private fantasy world where we were the only 2 people onboard, now however crammed in with the entire manifest – it was…um….appalling.

Onto dry land at 8:45pm, Scooter and I sped back to Seattle with hopes of a New York-y style Chinese food feast! However much to our dismay (as per usual) because of the late hour we were met with locked doors and darkened windows. So off to the pub we drove to indulge in another meat and fried potato repast.

The Seattle Ed.; The Road Less Traveled

We turned left and off into the unknown we sped. With my blessing Scooter reclined his seat to nap as I sang along to the greatest hits of 80’s new wave and watched as the bright yellow sun was replaced by a gray sky and rolling fog. This was an omen.

Within 30 minutes we were coasting along a rocky bluff lined with tall trees. The Pacific Ocean was out there, somewhere, for I could spot it sporadically between the firs. Scooter snored next to me; it would be a shame to wake him now, not like he was missing anything. I kept driving west until by surprise I glanced down at my dashboard compass to see that we were now heading south, we had hit the end of North America! So south I drove, still with no sight of the ocean to my right or much of anything else except trees. After about an hour I woke Scooter hoping he would have some insight regarding our dinner local. It was now after 7pm and the last thing we ate was that Jack In The Box 8 hours prior (yep I knew I should have ordered more than the egg and cheese biscuit).

Up and onto the blackberry, Scooter assured me that we were just 20 miles away from Amanda Parks and Google said that we would find some local eats. I guess we must have driven through Amanda Parks at some point because the next sign we spotted said, “Humptulips 17m” – so off to Humptulips we went. Humptulips consisted of a trailer parked on the gravely shoulder of Rt. 101 with a colorful local taking a nap alongside…we didn’t even slow down. Hoquiam was our next target and only another 20 miles away. Scooter sensing my downward spiral into the hangries (that’s hungry and angry) reached for the half eaten bag of Bar - B- Q chips and wedged it between my right thigh and the center console. Happily contented with the chips, a warm bottle of spring water and 1/2 a cookie I continued our drive ever southward.

Hoquiam was a hot bed of activity with traffic lights and everything! Scooter would not have to to eat my cold dead carcass after I had passed from starvation - We were saved! However it’s odd the things you discover about your lifelong friends along a long road trip - like the fact that Scooter is terrified of questionable eating establishments. I pulled into at least 4 different restaurants (term used very loosely) while Scooter screamed “DON”T STOP….DON’T STOP!!!!”. At one point he was almost in tears as I circled ‘round a parking lot, pleading with me, “Please don’t make me go in there….please”. So at about 9pm we left Hoquiam with Scooter’s sanity dangling loosely by a thread and entered Aberdeen.

Ah Aberdeen the land of milk and honey and a DENNY’S! Now readers please insert every small town white trash stereotype you can imagine and apply it here. Even with a full day of adventure funk hanging on us we were still the best looking duo in the joint (or the town).

Fueled up with good ol’ fried chain food we were on the road again just before 10pm with only another 110 miles to go. Yep there is a reason it's called the road less traveled, cause why would ANYBODY travel this road?!

I braced myself for another 2 hours of driving while Scooter TRIED to be a good passenger and entertain me. It was painful watching him force his eyelids open – so being the compassionate friend that I am I gave my consent to nap time with a promise that I would revive him when we arrived in Olympia.


Olympia passed and so did Tacoma with Scooter snoring peacefully next to me. About 30 minutes outside of Seattle city limits I realized immediately that I needed a pit stop so I jerked the car off Rt. 5 in search of anything with indoor plumbing. Funny how at 11:30pm on a Saturday night the only thing open is Wal-Mart, yes Wal-Mart. I don’t go to Wal-Mart, actually I have NEVER been inside a Wal-Mart, I am very anti Wal-Mart but I thought using their facilities would not compromise my social morals.

Inside the cavernous Mecca of capitalism bursting with 3rd world slave workers’ products I was stunned by the teeming throngs of families lined up at the 10 open registers – really, really? But the bathroom was clean and Scooter took the opportunity to stock up on T shirts and socks. Wow what a Saturday night out on the town, Denny’s AND Wal-Mart!

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!

Return of the Blog. Bloggier than EVER!

Big picture, all has been rather fabulous and not at all blog worthy. However readers thank goodness that I recently returned from my jaunt out West where I had amazing adventures with my best bud, Scooter- and so we begin….

Just mere days prior to my departure for the great North West I was surprised to discover two very unfortunate occurrences – one, that HYDRA canceled my COBRA Health Benefits and two, a very bad stranger stole my ATM number and was slowly siphoning cash out of my checking account.

The ATM situation was quickly resolved by a lovely Chase banker in midtown. side note - I think they are all too well versed in identity theft, either that or they are just so happy to be the only solvent bank in NYC that they will bend over backwards for anybody who crosses through the threshold of the ATM veranda and actually enters the branch. COBRA fiasco however was anything BUT quickly resolved; it was a hot bed of crazy. I learned of my non-insured status when I casually checked the Aetna website just 4 days before trudging off into the great outdoors (aka accident haven). When I discovered that I had been dropped I FREAKED out. Good thing Scooter is just 10 digits away for he speedily talked me off the ledge and pointed me in the direction of temporary coverage. However it turns out HYDRA had been depositing my payment checks and not applying them to my benefits SOOOOOO they claimed that I was late in my payments and therefore because of MY tardiness they were forced to cancel my coverage. Ughhhh, long story short they reinstated my coverage after leaving a voice mail stating that once coverage is terminated it is impossible to ever be reinstated….whatever freak show!

Now with cash and health insurance secured, I packed my two small (but hefty bags) and jetted off to the Emerald City. Jet Blue did not let me down this time, (I think they knew they were on notice) my flight was very enjoyable with my extra legroom, purchased for a paltry $15, and my noise canceling earphones, gracias Galleta.

Once in Seattle the shackles of my big city worries melted away and immediately I was entranced by the beauty of the city and the friendliness of its inhabitants. I mean genuine friendly, not that Southern fake friendly, “Oh bless your hart” crap. As I placed my bags in the back of the taxi I was approached by a local who just happened to be traveling in my same direction and offered to share the cab…. he was cute so I said yes. I’ve never seen a Dateline NBC where the serial rapist was cute, well except that Robert Chambers but that was like 20 years ago….anyways… The ride was long but my backseat partner was more than happy to share some Seattle facts and to point out interesting landmarks as we skirted downtown. As the fare approached $50 and my sidekick rummaged through his wallet I was poised to hear, “Oh I’m sorry I only have ….. (fill in the blank with any amount under $25)” but he had the cash and even helped pull my bags out of the trunk. Wow!

Scooter came down and tugged my bags into their very charming elevator, smartly appointed with old timey retractable grate and upholstered built in bench, then up we traveled to the 4th floor to their AMAZING apartment! The view is to die for, I had seen Scooter’s pictures but to be there standing in the bay window looking down onto the glittering city, it was breathtaking. The only thing that Scooter could offer to pry me away from the view was a promise of hot greasy Dick’s just a few blocks away awaiting to be gobbled up…..yummmmm. Even though it was almost 3am NYC time I was hankering for Dick’s. Scooter has been teasing me with tales of hot greasy Dick’s since arriving in Seattle and now was my chance to feast upon their goodness. So down the hill we traveled and filled our bellies with juicy hot Dick’s and shakes….Seattle rocks.