Tuesday, January 24, 2012

My vay-cay. Part I

First of all, let me just tell you how disappointed I was not to be greeted by a mob of adoring bloggers when I went to Seattle this weekend. I posted a link and everything, guys! I thought for sure I'd see you all out there wearing matching t-shirts with my face plastered on the front and at least one of you would have already acquired my transportation schedule, hotel room and itinerary. Amateur stalkers could have done more with less.

I offer bountiful forgiveness, though, because I had an amazing time in Seattle and I want to regale you with stories. Here's a couple things I plan on covering in this post three-part drama series:

  • David Garrett is H-OT. 
  • My Ex-Bartender, Adam, is on my hit list.
  • My brother is racist. And apparently an Air Force Sniper. (Not really. Except maybe.)
  • Fire escapes are fun.
  • I am an ugly 40-year-old man
My mumsie has a small (HUGE) obsession with German violinist David Garrett. Because not only is he smokin' hot, he's incredibly talented. David takes the classics and combines them with pop and rock to produce truly awesome pieces.



Uh, and you are welcome for those masks. Try getting THAT out of your head before bedtime, yo!

My brother, Gary (heh), being a generous soul and my mother's favorite, secured some tickets to the show this last weekend for myself, himself, Mumsie and Elle.

I somehow was elected to drive into the city (did I mention that my entire family is suicidal?) so that left Elle to take photos.






After I fired my sister and got to the hotel, we ran around like eejits checking out the cool cubbies and doors that don't go anywhere.

We stayed at the Moore Hotel. Have you ever been on a fire escape?  Apparently you can just slide that window up and crawl out there.


Have you ever had a bad case of vertigo and imagined yourself plummeting to your death from the 7th floor? Yeah. Me neither.



That night, we took a cab to the Paramount Theater. The show was amazing and we all loved it. Even Gary (Haheh) with his 6'5 frame stuffed into the tiny little seat. I wish I'd gotten a photo, but no flash photography was allowed.

Gary's more of a rock fan and not quite a convert to the Violin Rock but he was trying hard to enjoy himself. Gary remarked that David Garrett shared a pretty close resemblance to Kurt Cobain.









Gary: David Garrett kinda looks like Kurt Cobain.
Me: Huh. I don't really remember what Kurt looked like. I never cared much for him.
Gary: You could say, Was that before or after the shotgun blast?


[cue intro to Smells Like Teen Spirit by Nirvana]

Me: You're going to hell.
Gary: That was pure coincidence.

After the concert and dinner we managed to trudge our way through the 2nd Avenue vortex (seriously? Chicago has nothing on this windy part of the city) and dropped Mumsie off at the hotel. Then the three of us went off in search of the tiniest bar in Seattle: Bathtub Gin & Co.


It was a quiet, intimate little bar that literally housed about seven people. Seven assh*le people. Meet Adam, bartender extraordinaire. When you aren't a drinker (moi) and they don't carry your fall-back drink (parrot bay and cranberry) and you panic because you never drink, let alone know HOW to order a drink and cannot fathom what to do when everyone is LOOKING AT YOU, Adam will save you. And forsake you. More on that in a second. Let me set this up.

Gary and Elle love beer (gag!). Everything about it. I didn't even know beer could have a name other than Corona or Pabst. There's stuff like Guinness, Arrogant Bastard and Terminator. I like to tag along here and there and ride the tails of their worldly fun.

Adam made me a Pink Sparklie (no idea what the actual name was. It was pink, tasted like grapefruit, had vodka and cucumber slices) and secured his position as my own personal Bartender. I quickly envisioned a life where I would enjoy the occasional cocktail and Adam would always be the person to make it for me.

Adam was a bit busy dealing with a scrawny, prepubescent "Navy Seal" who was drunker 'n a skunk. I managed to convince the little liar to leave Adam a forty dollar tip and then the kid left. Probably was time to reel in the submarines and take off for Neverland.

Some poor fool in denial of his sexual orientation bought Elle a drink. I tell you, I have never, EVER eavesdropped on a more awkward conversation IN. MY. LIFE.

Drunk Doofus: Heeeeyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.
Elle: [not as suave as she thinks] Heh. Hey. [twitch]
Drunk: Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrh. Ho-bert.
Elle: Robert? Robby. Bobbert. Bobbit. What?

At this point, I was dying to knock him off his stool, but Gary told me to mind my own business, which I was, and leave them alone.

Eventually, I leaned way over to become part of the conversation and attempted to end it when Elle looked at me with wide eyes and whispered "end it. END IT."

I wasn't sure whether she meant the conversation or the guy himself, so I was all like, Soooo, anyway. I need to pee. C'mon Elle.

And Drunkard was all like, Who is she?


And I was all, I'm her sister. And that's our brother, Gary.


Drunkard's freaking jacktard poopface friend leans in and says, No way. [staring. disbelief. incredulous look] SISTERS? No. Half, maybe. You look like HIM. I mean, LOOK AT YOU. And LOOK AT HER! [drool, other various qualities of cretin excrement]

And I put on a tight smile and was like, Careful in a low tone with underlying threat of total desecration of his person.

So I punched him in the face and stole his wallet.

It gets better. We took off downstairs and ran to the [single] bathroom which happened to be next to a group of six or seven Spanish guys so that we could panic and hope Drunkard and his moronic friend would choke to death on air and be carried off by rats before we had to go back upstairs. When we came out of the bathroom those dumb boys all smiled and eyed us, so we were all, We're SISTERS, you dolt. That's like you having sex with your dad! and went back upstairs.

At that point, I was doing well. The three of us were planning the next days touristy events and discussing who would have to wake up early and move the car from the free-parking zone to the paid zone in order to avoid a ticket. I was doing so well, in fact, that I took my brother's phone and decided to handle the parking situation myself.

The following is an excerpt from his text log:

11:57pm   Mikr, move the car. And move it while I'm waiting.
11:58pm   Why haven't you moved the car yet?

12:22pm   Sorry Mike. My a-hole sister got my phone. We're alright here.

12:35am   No we aren't. Move the dang car, Mikr!


We decided to leave then (apparently I get mean as all get-out when I toss back three Sparklies and was starting to make plans with the devil himself). Adam thanked us for coming in and expressed his delight at hosting our family reunion. I told Adam that next time I would like to be carded because do I really look forty?

He stared at me. And do you know what he said?

No comment.


Elle and Gary had to hold me back when I tried to fight Adam. There was a lot of How dare you and I really thought we had something special and then we broke up. I mean, how can you say that to a barely-thirty something lady like myself and expect us to continue our Boozeship? So now Adam is my ex-bartender.

Back at the hotel I was still carrying on about Adam and our lost Drinkship and how everyone always thinks I'm my brother. I think Gary got a bit tired of the whine set to loop because the next thing I knew he was trying to air-stab me (cha-cha!) in front of the elevator. I stepped aside and continued complaining all the way to our floor where we somehow emerged from the elevator with Gary demonstrating how to cut our throats with the room key and him making some terrible comments involving [redacted].

[no WAY am I repeating what he said]

It was a pretty unique day.

Tomorrow, I can tell you all about Pike's Market, you can watch a fish-throwing video and see what I bought for $15. I'll even post a few photos of us.

If anyone makes the slightest comment about my age, I will find you.

I totally could. Google can do anything.

FUN GAME: Try to guess what Elle and I are doing here. Leave your guess in the comment section.




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