So far I haven't come close to finishing my ten days in Las Vegas and San Diego. While in Portland last week I didn't even take notes. But here now I'm going to tell you about last night. The word "fail" should be the most overused word of 2011 as everyone on the internet looks for any excuse to use it yet sadly it fits yesterday quite well. Call me old fashion but I'm going with failure. The Friday Night Failure of 2011.
On the urging of my iJay (like a magic 8-ball but it's made from Apples and Big Carrots) I decided to go downtown and check out the Emerald City Comic Convention. It sounded fun I guess but I don't collect comics and I'm really not that into the whole, as my dad calls it, reality-challenged scene. There was a chance to see some Star Trek actors and get pictures taken with people in Star Wars costumes which gave me an idea so I caught the 16 bus and headed for the skyscrapers.
A woman at the bus stop asked me for a dollar. Not change, a dollar. This is the new economy. When I got on all the seats had one person occupying them so I sat next to a lovely women who immediately whipped out the crackberry and put up a wall that Arizona would be jealous of. The guy across the aisle pulled out some glossy comic book, more book than comic really, and I ask if he's going to Comic Con. It's his fourth time but he's really not looking for conversation before his big moment of he year. Whateva.
Half way to town two semi-homeless guys try to stumble off the bus. Only one gets off and the other stands there confused as the bus closes the doors and pulls off. I spy a tallboy of Busch inside his jacket. Opened. Awesome. He gets off when the bus gets on 3rd and the most f-worded up people get on. Maybe the zombie look is in but down and out would be a step up. One guy had only one ear. Maybe he's a poet. The woman (?) that sat next to me opens her hand and it's bleeding. I get off at the next stop and will walk instead. Since I was in the free ride zone I could have hopped another but this every growing fat arse needed the exercise. Some brothers are yelling at each other in an alley and I put my hood up. I'm on the streets, mudderphutters!
It is kinda cold and I didn't bring a sweatshirt from Kodiak thinking I had one down here already so I head to the Pro Shop at Qwest to snag a Seahawks one I saw on sale the previous week. It's $20 off with an additional 15% cut on top of that. SOLD to the man with too much Seahawk stuff already. I passed on the Sounders hat and there is no way I'm getting that gawd damned new jersey. FYI: I let my Sounders season tickets go because I'm not here enough but did score tickets to all individual home games in March.
Found a bus back up the hill and made my way to 7th and Pike to the convention center. It started at 2pm and the time is about 3pm so I don't expect much of a line. Correct I am. Cute girls are handing out BOYSOY bars and I gobble a blueberry down while a couple dressed in some Dr. Who get up pose for pictures behind me. The people watching should be four star.
$20 poorer I make it inside and it is somewhat chaotic as the booths aren't in uniform lines and there are lines of people in spots that seem to lead nowhere. I make a hard turn to port and start from one corner of the ballroom. They used to have Fish Expo here which is that last time I set foot I this building. This was no Fish Expo. Most of the booths closest to the front were dedicated to artists and publishers. One tried starting a conversation about his comic in 24 hours he did but now the roles are reversing and I don't want to talk to anyone. The mini lines appear to be going to the more popular artists and many are drawing while they talk. If you are into drawing or art this is worth seening. Lots of paintings too of super heroes in mash ups (mash up will be the second most overused phrase of 2011). The woman dressed as Poison Ivy is rather attractive as I walk by and into a heard of Stormtroopers who are directing people to the 3rd floor for photo-ops.
Having walked the entire convention floor I only saw one thing that got my attention: the GI Joe toys. In had a schmittload of these when I was a kid and it was sorta neat to see them again. Sorta. If this was the highlight of my two hours here then maybe I need to get going.
But first I went to the floor below where the stars were signing crap and you could get a picture for $70 with Data and Riker who of course were in plain clothes. The charity Star Wars booth only wanted $5 but they take the picture with their camera and you don't get a digital copy. Plus they only had the tie fighter pilots available and I wanted the homies I saw upstairs to pose with the black Jock of the Rock shirt I had in my pocket. Having wasted $20 already and Happy Hour upon me I wasn't dropping five more for less than I wanted. This nerd was going to the bar.
I text RC who is one of the few people I know outside the mexiclan in the south end. He'd mentioned a party on Capitol Hill later although I didn't know if I had a green light to attend. And where to I want to start my alcoholism today? McCorkmick and Schmicks, home of the Happy Hour $2.95 cheeseburger and fries IF you get a drink. Manny's would be that drink. The same bartender is here from last time who has Sounders tickets in the SW corner and lordy lordy who is this? The waitress is sooooo fine. If she walked into Comic Con every geek ina Green Lantern tee would drop his pants and rub one off on the spot. And she does that hair tease thing. I milk that Manny's for every minute I can to be in her presence but I want to check out there place up the street. Going to try to go with a one and done strategy tonight.
Back in the rian I go two blocks to the Diller Room. It looks like something out the 1930's with a huge concrete and neon sign handing over the bar. Is that really cement? It must weigh a ton! In seconds I see Miss Perfect #2. This waitress has her hair on some Star Wars princess looking hairdo and the soft features of her face are like a light saber driven thru my cold heart. I get another Manny's. I'm completely hypnotized by this woman. The guys next to me get up and leave and I wonder how anyone with a pecker could do such a thing unless they'd made a one drink and leave pact as I had done with myself.And one guy is wearing a Red Sox hat. That fashion statement ended a few years ago, dude. Get an M's cap and suck it up.
The pink lights of De Ja Vu are calling to me but I do not answer.
I lumber to 2nd and pass a few spots ending up in the Lava Lounge. It's been awhile. Every seat at the bar is taken so I end up in a booth by myself with a $2 pint of PBR and a $2 million wheelbarrow of lonely. I haven't felt lonely in years but lately it has reared it's ugly head more and more often. I'm hoping RC will get me in that party and I can meet some new people. Mr. Williams of Belltwon fame comes in passing out literature and talking about some book he wrote. He chats up the table next tomine and then simply hands me his list of 50 Good Deeds or whatever. I read most of them and leave it on the table for the next folk who sit there.
I take my defeated arse north and pass by the Wasabi Bistro which is closed and being remodeled. Since Umi came in my life I quit going here but now I missed it. The staff were so friendly there. I'm so pathetically in need of a friend I'm getting all bleeding heart for the employees at a sushi house.
To Buckley's where I had a pretty good time playing charity bingo a couple weeks ago. I take the same seat at the bar I had before next to a couple who seem to be having a good time. I ask the barkeep if they have any Red Hook. ESB. Ten minutes later a guy takes the empty stool next to mine. He asks if they have any Red Hook. Weird. His name is Jeff and I talk his ear off. I'm like the dog when you come home from vacation. He's waiting for his girlfriend who is having her hair done before they go to Mama's Mexican Kitchen for dinner. I break the one and done rule and have a PBR since I finally found someone to rap with. He goes on about how he's lived in West Seattle his whole life and will never leave and really there is no where better you can go to if you are from here. I have no argument.
Half an hour late his chick finally is out of the salon and he''s out of the saloon. I down the last of my beer and go to Shorty's. I usually go here pretty late so this was new territory around 9:30pm. The punk arse crowd has given way to hipsters and beautiful types. I get an Olypop for $2 (I like mentioning the low beer prices to irk all yall trapped Kodiakians shelling out $5 for a Rain Dog at the Villagio) and reminisce about all the good times I had with Jeff. I finish the beer whn the kid next to me turns to me and says I llok like I need someone to talk to and how usually he's alone in the bar. He's with his lil blond squeeze and her dad used to run a boat in southeast. He is Ken and from....West Seattle. I get another can and we discuss the job he passed up in Alaska, the pros and cons of being an only son and the burden of carrying on the family name which I say is irrelevant but he says is important to honor those who came before him.
I text RC again about the party but get no reply. Damnit. With the second beer disposed of I cut over to third to see if I can find a bus back to Wallingford. I get a text just as my bus pulls up so I opt to stay out. I hit a Subway on my way to Broadway and get the first AS ADVERTISED five dollar sandwich. The 49 bus gets me up Pike and soon I'm on Capitol Hill with no idea where this party is at or what is going to happen next. I walk by Havana which is bursting at the seems with skirts and beats, pass Neumo's and decide to wait it out at The Garage. This bowling alley and pool hall is full from a party from the Young Lawyers Club in attendance. Wonderful. Don't bump anyone. I get an Inversion which was so bitter I could hardly drink it. It stained my mouth with hops like no beer I can recall. I go to the shuffle table bar and perch at the corner. Some people move the stools to their table so I'm completely cut off from humanity. Still no word on this party. I can't even finish this wretched brew. El Sandinista makes the call to abandon ship.
I'm unsure exactly when the buses stop running but I know there is a night owl route that goes to my hood. As I'm walking down Pike back to downtown a white convertible VW slows down besides me and the guy in the Justin Timberlake hat tries to get my attention. I don't look and then I hear "I want to so violate your ass and totally suck you off!" Can't tell if this is a joke, intimidation, or what. I give a nervous half laugh as the car turns right at the corner in front of me so I go into battle mode. I'm not the track star anymore and if a car full of crazies come at me hopefully someone will stop and save my rear end from whatever is coming. When I get to the corner the car isn't there. Maybe that was RC's crew screwing with me. That guy looked like Peterson's brother who I know would pull a stunt like that. I don't know but I'm going to stay closer to Ballard than the rainbow rooms that reign supreme on this side of the city for awhile.
My bright spot of the evening comes when I do a 4.21 40 to catch the 16 bus. I crash in a seat and ponder the low points of the evening. And my mind wonders to about a year ago to the day when I made a decision regarding my last relationship I've second guessed for 365 days. Sadly I think about this more as time passes instead of less.
I get off the bus a stop early to walk down to the Pacific Inn Pub because I haven't wasted enough time or money tonight but the optimist in me thinks there is still a chance to salvage a good note this side of Saturday.
Nope.
The place is fairly dead and I get a Miller Lite. I should have gone home. I should have gone home after Shorty's. I should have never gone out at all and saved it for Saturday. Guess we can't all be Charlie Sheen. I drink it as fast as I can and walk out without leaving a tip which usually isn't what I do. The bartender yells thanks for coming in which I think meant f-word you ya cheap bastard. Whateva. I don't care anymore.
A woman at the bus stop asked me for a dollar. Not change, a dollar. This is the new economy. When I got on all the seats had one person occupying them so I sat next to a lovely women who immediately whipped out the crackberry and put up a wall that Arizona would be jealous of. The guy across the aisle pulled out some glossy comic book, more book than comic really, and I ask if he's going to Comic Con. It's his fourth time but he's really not looking for conversation before his big moment of he year. Whateva.
Half way to town two semi-homeless guys try to stumble off the bus. Only one gets off and the other stands there confused as the bus closes the doors and pulls off. I spy a tallboy of Busch inside his jacket. Opened. Awesome. He gets off when the bus gets on 3rd and the most f-worded up people get on. Maybe the zombie look is in but down and out would be a step up. One guy had only one ear. Maybe he's a poet. The woman (?) that sat next to me opens her hand and it's bleeding. I get off at the next stop and will walk instead. Since I was in the free ride zone I could have hopped another but this every growing fat arse needed the exercise. Some brothers are yelling at each other in an alley and I put my hood up. I'm on the streets, mudderphutters!
It is kinda cold and I didn't bring a sweatshirt from Kodiak thinking I had one down here already so I head to the Pro Shop at Qwest to snag a Seahawks one I saw on sale the previous week. It's $20 off with an additional 15% cut on top of that. SOLD to the man with too much Seahawk stuff already. I passed on the Sounders hat and there is no way I'm getting that gawd damned new jersey. FYI: I let my Sounders season tickets go because I'm not here enough but did score tickets to all individual home games in March.
Found a bus back up the hill and made my way to 7th and Pike to the convention center. It started at 2pm and the time is about 3pm so I don't expect much of a line. Correct I am. Cute girls are handing out BOYSOY bars and I gobble a blueberry down while a couple dressed in some Dr. Who get up pose for pictures behind me. The people watching should be four star.
$20 poorer I make it inside and it is somewhat chaotic as the booths aren't in uniform lines and there are lines of people in spots that seem to lead nowhere. I make a hard turn to port and start from one corner of the ballroom. They used to have Fish Expo here which is that last time I set foot I this building. This was no Fish Expo. Most of the booths closest to the front were dedicated to artists and publishers. One tried starting a conversation about his comic in 24 hours he did but now the roles are reversing and I don't want to talk to anyone. The mini lines appear to be going to the more popular artists and many are drawing while they talk. If you are into drawing or art this is worth seening. Lots of paintings too of super heroes in mash ups (mash up will be the second most overused phrase of 2011). The woman dressed as Poison Ivy is rather attractive as I walk by and into a heard of Stormtroopers who are directing people to the 3rd floor for photo-ops.
Having walked the entire convention floor I only saw one thing that got my attention: the GI Joe toys. In had a schmittload of these when I was a kid and it was sorta neat to see them again. Sorta. If this was the highlight of my two hours here then maybe I need to get going.
But first I went to the floor below where the stars were signing crap and you could get a picture for $70 with Data and Riker who of course were in plain clothes. The charity Star Wars booth only wanted $5 but they take the picture with their camera and you don't get a digital copy. Plus they only had the tie fighter pilots available and I wanted the homies I saw upstairs to pose with the black Jock of the Rock shirt I had in my pocket. Having wasted $20 already and Happy Hour upon me I wasn't dropping five more for less than I wanted. This nerd was going to the bar.
I text RC who is one of the few people I know outside the mexiclan in the south end. He'd mentioned a party on Capitol Hill later although I didn't know if I had a green light to attend. And where to I want to start my alcoholism today? McCorkmick and Schmicks, home of the Happy Hour $2.95 cheeseburger and fries IF you get a drink. Manny's would be that drink. The same bartender is here from last time who has Sounders tickets in the SW corner and lordy lordy who is this? The waitress is sooooo fine. If she walked into Comic Con every geek ina Green Lantern tee would drop his pants and rub one off on the spot. And she does that hair tease thing. I milk that Manny's for every minute I can to be in her presence but I want to check out there place up the street. Going to try to go with a one and done strategy tonight.
Back in the rian I go two blocks to the Diller Room. It looks like something out the 1930's with a huge concrete and neon sign handing over the bar. Is that really cement? It must weigh a ton! In seconds I see Miss Perfect #2. This waitress has her hair on some Star Wars princess looking hairdo and the soft features of her face are like a light saber driven thru my cold heart. I get another Manny's. I'm completely hypnotized by this woman. The guys next to me get up and leave and I wonder how anyone with a pecker could do such a thing unless they'd made a one drink and leave pact as I had done with myself.And one guy is wearing a Red Sox hat. That fashion statement ended a few years ago, dude. Get an M's cap and suck it up.
The pink lights of De Ja Vu are calling to me but I do not answer.
I lumber to 2nd and pass a few spots ending up in the Lava Lounge. It's been awhile. Every seat at the bar is taken so I end up in a booth by myself with a $2 pint of PBR and a $2 million wheelbarrow of lonely. I haven't felt lonely in years but lately it has reared it's ugly head more and more often. I'm hoping RC will get me in that party and I can meet some new people. Mr. Williams of Belltwon fame comes in passing out literature and talking about some book he wrote. He chats up the table next tomine and then simply hands me his list of 50 Good Deeds or whatever. I read most of them and leave it on the table for the next folk who sit there.
I take my defeated arse north and pass by the Wasabi Bistro which is closed and being remodeled. Since Umi came in my life I quit going here but now I missed it. The staff were so friendly there. I'm so pathetically in need of a friend I'm getting all bleeding heart for the employees at a sushi house.
To Buckley's where I had a pretty good time playing charity bingo a couple weeks ago. I take the same seat at the bar I had before next to a couple who seem to be having a good time. I ask the barkeep if they have any Red Hook. ESB. Ten minutes later a guy takes the empty stool next to mine. He asks if they have any Red Hook. Weird. His name is Jeff and I talk his ear off. I'm like the dog when you come home from vacation. He's waiting for his girlfriend who is having her hair done before they go to Mama's Mexican Kitchen for dinner. I break the one and done rule and have a PBR since I finally found someone to rap with. He goes on about how he's lived in West Seattle his whole life and will never leave and really there is no where better you can go to if you are from here. I have no argument.
Half an hour late his chick finally is out of the salon and he''s out of the saloon. I down the last of my beer and go to Shorty's. I usually go here pretty late so this was new territory around 9:30pm. The punk arse crowd has given way to hipsters and beautiful types. I get an Olypop for $2 (I like mentioning the low beer prices to irk all yall trapped Kodiakians shelling out $5 for a Rain Dog at the Villagio) and reminisce about all the good times I had with Jeff. I finish the beer whn the kid next to me turns to me and says I llok like I need someone to talk to and how usually he's alone in the bar. He's with his lil blond squeeze and her dad used to run a boat in southeast. He is Ken and from....West Seattle. I get another can and we discuss the job he passed up in Alaska, the pros and cons of being an only son and the burden of carrying on the family name which I say is irrelevant but he says is important to honor those who came before him.
I text RC again about the party but get no reply. Damnit. With the second beer disposed of I cut over to third to see if I can find a bus back to Wallingford. I get a text just as my bus pulls up so I opt to stay out. I hit a Subway on my way to Broadway and get the first AS ADVERTISED five dollar sandwich. The 49 bus gets me up Pike and soon I'm on Capitol Hill with no idea where this party is at or what is going to happen next. I walk by Havana which is bursting at the seems with skirts and beats, pass Neumo's and decide to wait it out at The Garage. This bowling alley and pool hall is full from a party from the Young Lawyers Club in attendance. Wonderful. Don't bump anyone. I get an Inversion which was so bitter I could hardly drink it. It stained my mouth with hops like no beer I can recall. I go to the shuffle table bar and perch at the corner. Some people move the stools to their table so I'm completely cut off from humanity. Still no word on this party. I can't even finish this wretched brew. El Sandinista makes the call to abandon ship.
I'm unsure exactly when the buses stop running but I know there is a night owl route that goes to my hood. As I'm walking down Pike back to downtown a white convertible VW slows down besides me and the guy in the Justin Timberlake hat tries to get my attention. I don't look and then I hear "I want to so violate your ass and totally suck you off!" Can't tell if this is a joke, intimidation, or what. I give a nervous half laugh as the car turns right at the corner in front of me so I go into battle mode. I'm not the track star anymore and if a car full of crazies come at me hopefully someone will stop and save my rear end from whatever is coming. When I get to the corner the car isn't there. Maybe that was RC's crew screwing with me. That guy looked like Peterson's brother who I know would pull a stunt like that. I don't know but I'm going to stay closer to Ballard than the rainbow rooms that reign supreme on this side of the city for awhile.
My bright spot of the evening comes when I do a 4.21 40 to catch the 16 bus. I crash in a seat and ponder the low points of the evening. And my mind wonders to about a year ago to the day when I made a decision regarding my last relationship I've second guessed for 365 days. Sadly I think about this more as time passes instead of less.
I get off the bus a stop early to walk down to the Pacific Inn Pub because I haven't wasted enough time or money tonight but the optimist in me thinks there is still a chance to salvage a good note this side of Saturday.
Nope.
The place is fairly dead and I get a Miller Lite. I should have gone home. I should have gone home after Shorty's. I should have never gone out at all and saved it for Saturday. Guess we can't all be Charlie Sheen. I drink it as fast as I can and walk out without leaving a tip which usually isn't what I do. The bartender yells thanks for coming in which I think meant f-word you ya cheap bastard. Whateva. I don't care anymore.
