Seems another city is engaging in a discussion about removing its ill-advised downtown pedestrian mall from the 1960s. They’re dropping like flies all over the country, from Winston-Salem to Chicago, as municipalities realize this well-intentioned attempt to compete with the suburbs actually did little more than make Main Street more desolate than it already was. And Fresno’s is even among the liveliest of the survivors…

But San Francisco drags out the notion of closing Market Street once a year or so. Since we’re so “different” and “special” here, it’s naturally assumed that any idea which has failed miserably everywhere else in the country will magically and mystically succeed here if it costs a lot of money and inconveniences a lot of people. And especially if it involves making the city look just a little bit more like Disneyland…

Yes, I know I’ve written about this before, but I never cease to be amazed by this san Francisco smugness which says that we can never learn from the mistakes of other cities. We’re only allowed to MAKE the mistakes so other cities can learn from US. Some would call this visionary. Some would just call it wasteful arrogance…

Interesting time-waster for today. Cool photos. Many of which are disintegrating…

 

Woke up. Fell out of bed. Had visions of Beth’s Cafe in the head. Mark had been alerted to this place and its six- and twelve-egg omelettes before we left. Visiting was a necessity. Breakfast was quite good and cheap. And the “spatulas of the world” series on the wall was a special treat. As was the loud-mouthed cook who shouted at us when we came in. we decided that he was going to be our houseboy when we move to Seattle.

Today was to be somewhat agenda-less, which allowed us to roam the city freely. Actually, there were a couple of agenda items, the first of which was a search for the Fremont Bridge Troll, which allegedly lives under a bridge. It was a valiant effort, but we never found the damned thing. Probably because we were under the wrong bridge.

 

After Fremont, we drove around in the increasing rain (it was nice to get a feel for what the northwest is REALLY like after a week of sunshine) and finally landed downtown for agenda item #2: the Seattle Underground Tour. I took this tour at age 10 and really loved it. I loved it at 37 too. I won’t spoil it for you, but I will mention that it’s all about the stories and that it doesn’t photograph terribly well.

 

We also hit Metsker’s Maps and wandered around Pioneer Square a little. I like Pioneer Square; gentrified as it may be, it still seems like Skid Row too, which is very appropriate since the very term “skid row” had its genesis here. I saw my first wino in Pioneer Square et the tender age of 10.

 

We looked at the spot where the Pergola was (and will be again, evidently) and had pizza.

 

 

Last night in Seattle, and there was much ground to cover. We covered Bellevue (a very odd place) and both the floating bridges (very odd structures) and then dorve through the University District and Ballard pondering dinner.

 

We settled on a Dick’s Drive-In north of Ballard for dinner. Interesting place; in just five minutes it went from seeming relatively uncrowded to being swarmed by flocks of Mormon-looking teenagers. The whole thing was so very wholesome. I sort of hada desire to start making out with Mark in the parking lot.

 

After dinner, we looked around Ballard some more and visited two Safeways in a desperate search for Funyuns and other road supplies for Saturday’s very long drive. Then we headed down for one last look at downtown Seattle by night.

 

Breakfast was at a place called The Aurora (on Aurora Avenue, oddly enough). It was a great place: a former Sambo’s, with pretty much all its original decor as intact as it was about 1963. I was excited.

 

We had pancakes, cigarettes, and videotape for breakfast. All was well.

 

 

We drove around Seattle a bit, seeing the famous Hat and Boots, the University District (including its Safeway, of course), and more. I think we were both pretty obsessed with Seattle by this point, although I’d pretty much seen it coming and wasn’t surprised. Aside from a slightly lower sales tax rate (offset by the lack of state income tax) and a few restaurants I’d miss, I’m still not convinced that there’s anything much I like more about san Francisco.

In other words, yes, I’d move in a heartbeat if I had a job…

 

In the afternoon, we met up with Mark’s friend Andrea in Kent, and took a tour of the more southern parts od Highway 99, toward Tacoma. It was a good drive, and it was great to meet Andrea. I only worry that I came across a bit like a heroin addict between the growing sniffles and the antihistamine I took against doctor’s orders. And if either of you can offer better pictures of yourselves than the crappy ones I got, please send them along…

We went through Tacoma and across the Tacoma Narrows Bridge (a newer version, not this one) and then circled back for dinner. Mmmm. Burger is good…

 

I think it was on the way back to the Motel 6 that we decided to stay another night. This decided, we went back out into the night to see more…

 

We hit Pioneer Square to see if the Underground Tour would be an option on Friday (it would) and made the rounds again. Have I mentioned yet how much more fun this trip was than my last attempt at Seattle?

  

Exploring Seattle was something I’d been itching to do again since I was ten years old and saw my first wino ever on a street corner in Pioneer Square. This trip, I actually got the chance. Today was reserved largely for downtown and the Seattle Center, home of the Space Needle which was celebrating its 40th anniversary this month. Yes, we ate up there, and yes, I sampled the special 1962 menu for $19.62.

I also noticed that the Pacific Science Center (a former pavillion from the 1962 Worlds Fair) bore a disturbing resemblance to the former World Trade Center.

 

The food was good (despite what we’d been told) and the view was, of course, amazing, and neither of us seemed particularly embarrassed to be a tourist.

 

After doing the needle, we got on the monorail and headed downtown. Interestingly, after forty years, Seattle may be on the verge of actually expanding the monorail to something more than a mile-long run between two places only tourists ever want to go. We’ll see.

 

Once downtown, we walked through Pike Place Market (where I had good luck at finding four dollar books) and saw the original Starbuck’s (no comments please). I realized that my allergies were kicking in bigtime and began talking like Brenda Vaccaro to stay in character.

 

 

We met up with Cho in Capital Hill about 8:00 and proceded to dinner at a good Thai place which probably had a name, but I don’t remember it. We also toured the neighborhood, visited some really cool bar (with a name I also can’t remember, but it had something to do with “bad juju”) and posed with the Jimmy Hendrix statue. I also blew my nose a lot, which was no doubt becoming increasingly annoying to all who came in contact with me.

 

Liked Cho. Liked the view from her fire escape. Opted against visiting the nearby bathhouse…

Afterward, we went on another long and semi-aimless drive through the streets of Seattle in search of neon signs, motels, diners, and maybe beer…

 

 

We bypassed the drive-in in favor of the Bomber Restaurant. A little history: the bomber in the parking lot used to act as the canopy for a fairly famous (among roadside history buffs) gas station. Now the restaurant remains, serving cheap and damned good food in a friendly sort of way, all to the accompaniment of 1940s pop standards.

 

After breakfast, we drov through downtown again and made our way upto the Pittock Mansion, where you’ll find a mildly entertaining house overlooking some of the best views in Portland.

 

Cities with active volcanoes overlooking them are always picturesque, if a little nerve-wracking. And I also like cities with actual vegetation, although my allergies don’t always agree. That allergy thing would come back to haunt me.

 

It was time to leave Portland now, since a one-week trip only allows so much time in any one place. We crossed our final bridges, stopped at Waddle’s and Safeway just before the Columbia River, and were on our way still farther north. Oregon thanked us on the way out.

 

Crossing the Columbia River, we escaped personal income tax and those weird speed limit signs which read “Speed 50”. We gained a really high sales tax, really expensive cigarettes, and self-serve gas.

 

Portland to Seattle is a pretty quick drive, actually, but along the way we were treated to a couple of active volcanoes, one very pastoral nuclear power plant, and the Tacoma Dome. Well, there was that gaggle of skate rats at the ARCO station in Kelso too, but I didn’t even steal a glance. Really.

 

Upon seeing Mt. Ranier, we knew we were pretty much there. A few more miles and we found our Motel 6 in scenic Sea-Tac. It really was; we had a view of Seattle’s favorite volcano right from the window of our room. We christened said room by taking care of one minor emergency and then set off into the night in search of food.

 

As might be expected, we found it on old Highway 99, which is known as Aurora Avenue north of Seattle. Cheap pizza, spaghetti, and beer in a smoke-filled environment. Who could ask for more? After dinner, we sampled the neon of Aurora Avenue and one chain drugstore…

 

 

Aurora Avenue. Home to enough neon motels, old diners, and supermarkets to give me a permanent stiffy. We went up and down this stretch of what used to be US 99 many times. Pictures were taken with reckless abandon.

 

We never quite made it to the Elephant Car Wash for the purpose it was intended to serve.

 

We found neon in Green Lake, neon in Wallingford, neon downtown, and neon in the university District.

 

And we headed home by way of downtown. Where we took pictures of each other under some of the most famous neon around.