Seattle Nightlife

And now for something completely different. I'm a bit tired from Startup Weekend. I asked my coworker, Scott Bays, to guest-write a piece about our adventures in Seattle last weekend. Expect more Startup Weekend related posts in the week to come, but for now, let me present Seattle nightlife.. Seattle nightlife...

It has always been considered subpar compared to the nightlife of many other metropolitan areas.  You wouldn’t think this of the famous “sleepless” city of music.  It could be said that 90% of the population here knows how to have a great time in some fashion, but perhaps only 10% actually know where to have a great time when it comes to the night and what comes after.

This was my task.  Monica’s friend Adan, from college, was applying for a job at Microsoft and was only here for a night.  They gave him a powerful Dodge Charger to drive, and Monica wanted to show him Seattle.  She knew I was into the nightlife a bit and had hyped up venues before, so she trusted me to be the guide for this night.  Getting pretty into it, I probably went through about three or four starting places to sit down, relax, and enjoy a drink or two before going to the party. She honorably took the blame for the locale changes however, which I found humorous enough to let it be. The first place I chose for the evening:  Bathtub Gin & Co., a Belltown legendary bar and hangout place.  I had never been there, but heard amazing stories from pretty much everyone so I felt it was a good choice regardless and I would get a chance to try it.  10:00pm was our meetup time, and so the story begins...

It actually begins with a homeless man.

Yep.

9:50 comes around and I’ve located the elusive bar.  I text Monica some directions to the best parking lot to use and sit down to wait. No response by a little after 10pm so I decided to go ahead and call. No answer.

“You seem like you are spacing out a bit man.” A homeless man walks up to me while I’m leaning up against the wall of a building. “Girl not answering?”

“Yeah, not sure if my friends stood me up or not yet, so maybe.” I glance at the sign he is carrying that has “BEER ME!” written on it. I also notice the belt holsters carrying four beers in them, so it is definitely working out well for him.  “Nice sign!” I laugh. He laughs as well, and for a homeless man; he really doesn’t smell all that badly.

He goes on to tell me stories of Karma. Of people having accidents, or fortune, and all the karma related things involved in his life. They are actually pretty interesting stories, and I’m waiting anyway, so I nod my head and listen.   Some of them are also quite hilarious, so I give him five dollars out of the cash I prepared for the night.

“Let me rub some of my good karma off on you.” He says as he rubs his elbow on my shirt. I raise an eyebrow to this homeless man who is giving me karma. “Now try calling, she’ll pick up.”

By this time it is about 10:30, and I give Monica another call.  After a few rings, she actually picks up!  “What time is it?” She asked. Turns out she had a bit longer of a nap than intended.  I laugh and yell back at the homeless guy while Monica is still on the phone. “What is your name, man?”

“They call me Shadow.” He yells back. I nod my head in approval, as this sounds like it is straight out of a novel to me so I am already quite pleased with the evening.

I get off the phone with Monica so she can call Adan, and she texts me to let me know they are going straight to See Sound. This is the name of the club we were going to go to after drinking/meeting at the bar. I walk over there and listen to the music a bit. It’s not really to my liking, so I text her back a fallback plan for the first club. Let’s go to Trinity first instead, and give her the address. By the time I arrive they are already there, and the night finally begins.

Trinity is Club. Pretty much what you would expect out of a club. Nothing amazing, nothing awful, just good standard Top-40s with a couple of branched off areas that play perhaps some dubstep or hip hop. Can’t really go wrong.  I get a drink, join Adan and Monica who are already into it, and start dancing. We did take a couple of breaks from the dancing to go upstairs and sit so I can actually meet Adan (even though this is quite difficult in a loud club of course). I also text some of my friends that are out to find out what they are doing. We get into a short sparring match over texts as they try to get me to come over to them and I try to get them to come over to us. All-in-all it didn’t really matter, Adan had already bought Monica and I another drink so we continue the fun.

Monica ended up meeting another girl there named Christie. They danced together, and Adan and I went to the other side of the dance floor.

Eventually the club started clearing out around 2:00am.  Monica mentions that she believes we're going to someone’s house.  We meet a few new people including the owner of another club who says he's having an after party. Monica asks him about her friends joining.  He turns to his friends and complains how he “doesn’t want a bunch of random people at his house.”  Of course you don’t want her male companions to be with her to make sure she stays safe tonight...asshole...

One of the friends, a shorter black guy was actually quite cool; I don’t remember his name however.  He kept trying to convince this guy that we were cool to chill out with them, but he wouldn’t have it. Christie at this time started walking off so Monica rushed after her. In the end, we decided to go to Noc Noc and quickly bailed from the situation.

A quick background of Noc Noc. This is the place. I was unsure about bringing both Monica and Adan here originally, as I have always gone with a group of friends that were well prepared for the night. This was my first time taking people, one of them I just met and it was my first outing with Monica as well. Noc is, during the evening, an 80s bar with a goth style.  However, on Friday nights and Saturday nights (Or rather 2:00am Saturday and 2:00am Sunday), it transforms into the greatness that is Noc Noc. At that time it turns into an EDM dance club where local DJs will come and mix some amazing music until the morning.  An after-hours club.  I have actually never been to the evening portion of it, nor do I actually ever plan on it. This iteration of Noc is the one I know and love, the 2:00am sorts. But it’s not for everyone. Still, all four of us were pretty in sync and were ready to continue the night.  So we walked there.

Or actually, a couple of blocks in Christie was complaining about the walk because of her shoes.  Adan picks her up and carries her on his back while she humorously calls him playful names that I’ll leave out from here. She also told me I should be carrying Monica.  Psh, yeah right. If I tried to pick up and carry Monica I would probably be the one that somehow ended up getting carried instead. (editor's note: are you calling me fat?)

Once we reached Noc we got in the line that is usually present on these after-hours. By the time we paid our cover Dave, the promoter, was watching the line. I go up to him to say hi. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if he would remember me without the rest of the group I usually come with since so many people go through Noc all the time. Not only did he recognize me he also knew the amount of time it’s been since I had last been there. I introduced him to the other three and let him know that Monica and Adan are fresh from PA. “Show them how it’s done!” He slapped me on the back and we went inside.

80% amazing people,10% creepers, 10% shady people.  That’s Noc for you. People from all walks of life end up in there dancing together. And everyone has fun.  Now in Washington, alcohol can’t be served from 2:00-6:00am. Thus, the only refreshments at this time is water and red bull.  But this is fine! Drunk people cause problems, people at Noc; not usually so much. Music was amazing at this time, which I later found out from a friend that one of his favorite DJs just happened to be there the night Monica and I went.  Christie ran into another guy that she was dancing with at Trinity, and they ended up leaving early. That would be the last we ever heard from her. At some point in time I realized there were a few people I recognized that went outside, so I followed them to chat for a while.

This is the only unfortunate part of the evening. Apparently while I was outside Monica had met another group of people and placed her purse under a girl named Nicky’s coat. It ended up getting stolen...Luckily she didn’t have too much in her purse, and we searched the place a bit to see if they just took the cash and left the rest in a trash bin. No luck. Looks like Monica will end up getting a new phone sooner than she thought. I always teased her about how bad her phone was anyway. Still,  Monica seemed to be having so much fun she didn’t even really care, so we just kept at it.

Adan and I also got some time at the bar where we chatted about various topics (mostly women). He’s a pretty cool guy, I decided. Thrust right into this but having an amazing time of it, glad I got to show it to him and I really hope he gets the job so we can all do it again sometime!

We ended up leaving Noc and hanging out with the friends that Monica had met there, including Nicky. That’s usually how it happens at Noc. You go there with friends, and end up with more friends. We went to a place called 5 Points Cafe. This cafe has been open 24/7 since the 1930s. It never closes. Even on holidays. There we chatted about neurology, anarchism, and all sorts of fun Seattlite things like that.   Eventually we realized that it was about time for the morning to end, as Adan had a flight to catch at to go back home.

He gave Monica and me a ride in his charger, we helped him load his things from the hotel, and he dropped us at my place so he could rush to the airport. Things got a little tricky at this point in time, as my house tends to have a lot of people over on Friday night, thus all my roommates were completely passed out. So to return Monica back home I found the nearest bus route and joined her. She had already given up on her early morning run at this time since it was nearing 11:00am. But she still had other day activities coming up because she is always busy so she had to get back to her place. I went along and we had a pretty epic bus conversation in the meantime. After she made it home, we went our separate ways.

Now I can say, welcome to Seattle.

(thanks Scott!)

Seattle Startup Weekend - Friday Night

Friday night. Or is it Saturday morning ? I’m headed home on the bus now since they closed up 92 Lenora Street to keep people from sleeping over. Upon arriving at the venue, a derelict building that had been repainted and is still being refinished in an open, loft style, I was greeted by the event coordinators and handed a name tag on a red lanyard. I soon realized that red lanyards were for designers, blue lanyards for developers, yellow lanyards for business people, and green lanyards for event coordinators. White lanyards were for mentors and speakers.

One of our speakers was tetris grand master Kevin Z Birrell (@kevinddr). He spoke on the power of determination and how it had helped him to improve to the level of TGM, or tetris grand master. I'm pretty sure that that's the level of tetris where the pieces are invisible and you have to guess where they're going to land. Afterwards we did an icebreaker where we had to pitch a company based on two key words that were given to us. Our team's were pitchfork and dental floss, so we came up with "Tridental, the world's first social flossing." A flosser attaches to your iphone and tracks each time you floss your teeth and sends a message to your friends, your mom, and your dentist to let them know that you've flossed. Someone please invent this in real life!

After the ice breaker I wandered around the floor, awkwardly extending my hand to anyone I made eye contact with and introducing myself. « Hi, I’m Monica, » I would say to anyone who would listen. I had thought up a brief pitch – an idea that I had been thinking of for a while and had revisited while on the bus on the way there.  People seemed to like my idea, so when it was time I went ahead and pitched it. At least thirty people were pitching – probably a quarter of the crowd. Everyone was given 60 seconds to tell the crowd their vision. Someone pushed me in the right direction and I found myself on the podium holding a microphone in my hand. I started into my pitch, introducing myself to the crowd and giving an off-the-cuff intro. Suddenly, I ran out of words. I stared around awkwardly, opening and closing my mouth like a fish as my mind churned. The more I thought about what I was supposed to say, the less I knew what I was going to say, until I realized that I didn’t even know what I was doing anymore. My mind was blank. Suddenly I remembered « So we really need app developers ! » I managed to shout before the timer buzzed. I handed the microphone back to the coordinator and he smiled at me. I jumped off the stage and slunk to the back. Someone came up to me and congratulated me on my "good pitch." I realized that what had seemed like several minutes of awkwardness had only lasted a couple of seconds in reality.

I watched the rest of the pitches. Some of them were brilliant. A team of therapists was pitching kinect games for autistic children. « SeaBNB » aimed to use the berths on board empty boats as hotel rooms.

After the pitches were over, the name of each pitch was written on a sheet of paper and taped to the wall. We each had been given three sticky notes, and these counted as our three votes. Whichever three ideas you liked best you stuck a sticky note to. I hung out in line for the one bathroom as people cast their votes. When I got back, I was surprised to see the results. My pitch had a thick coating of sticky notes. It had been chosen as one of the final groups!

Now it was time to assemble a crew. A whole host of electrical engineering students who happen to be awesome app devs gathered around our team. Two designers agreed that they were in. Several business people also joined us and began talking business plans and monetization. The final headcount was thirteen, but one of the coordinators came over and told us that we needed to thin out a bit, since that size group tended to be unwieldy and there were some groups that needed more people. We ended up with nine people and I volunteered myself to be the coordinator and liaison between developers, designers, and business people. Work started around 10pm and the hours passed quickly as we tried to come up with a viable plan of action.

At midnight they kicked us out so we headed to Belltown Billiards to get our groove on. Work hard, play hard.

I'll be back at 92 Lenora Avenue at 9am. Til then, I'll be trying to get some Z's.

Startup Weekend Starts Up!

I was so excited for bike-to-work day this morning that I forgot to bring my laptop to work and barely made it to Startup Weekend. It takes me an hour to bike home, and another forty minutes to bike into Seattle. Guess how much time I had given myself to get from work to an event that starts at 5pm ? None. Zilch. Somehow I tend to bypass the mundane parts of existence, like eating, sleeping, and commute. I needed my laptop though, so I left work as early as I decently could and caught the bus using the most useful app I’ve downloaded so far,  "One Bus Away" that accurately tells you the time of the next bus that is close to you. I’d love to personally shake the hand of the inventor of this app. Unfortunately, it couldn’t entirely save me from my absent mind. I watched the sun glinting off of Lake Washington as I surfed my new phone and tried to come up with an idea to pitch. I got off the bus and started to walk home to where my laptop was waiting. Suddenly I had a feeling of emptiness. My bike ! My bike was still on the bus ! The bus had pulled away and was gathering speed as it hurtled down 25th Ave. There was only one thing to do. I sprinted. I sprinted hard. Somehow I found myself reaching up and rapping on the driver’s window. The stunned driver stopped the bus (there had been a change of drivers halfway through the route, so she didn’t know that the bike on the front was mine). She just stared at me, incomprehensive for a second.

"My bike !"  I shouted. "My bike!" That’s when she understood. Rush hour traffic was gathering behind us and there was no place for the bus to pull over, so she motioned for me to take it off quickly. I managed to get my bike off in record time, and I even had time to pick up my laptop from the apartment and catch the bus downtown, where I somehow found my way to Startup Weekend. That’s where I am now and that’s where I will be for the next 54 hours. Expect periodic updates.

Bike to Work

I'm on a biking-to-work roll. I have biked every day this week. Because guess what people? May is bike to work month! If you aren't already in on this trend you should start now. Tomorrow is Seattle's official "bike-to-work" day, so just for biking to work I get free donuts and treats. I understand that there will also be some refreshment stations along the Burke Gillman Trail - wait, I just rechecked the stats at this blog - there will be OVER 60 refreshment stations set up for those biking to work! Holy bike shorts batman! Check out the map online here. My first stop will be Ravenna park, where the Snoqualmie Nordic Club will be holding drawings for some giveaways. Next I'll hit 8050 35th street, where coffee, bike maintenance, & air will be available. Next stop will be 113th St & the Burke Gilman Trail where I can get my trail mix on. I'll ride by the stop at Burke-Gilman Trail & Ballinger Way NE in Lake Forest Park, sponsored by the LFP B.O.O.K. Club. It doesn't say what they're giving away - beer perhaps? Next stop is Logboom Park in Kenmore sponsored by Corpore Sano Physical Therapy & Sports Performance. My final stop will be at the trail behind Cascadia Community College, which offers bike assistance by Bicycles West. I'm not sure what bike assistance is - maybe they'll offer to push me up my final hill?

Wow, this is just another reason that having a twelve mile bike to work is awesome!

Glenfiddich Scotch Tasting

It may have happened a week ago, but's never too late to write about an enjoyable Scotch Tasting. You know you're an adult where you actually go to a scotch tasting and sip glasses of fine, aged scotch rather than mixing your friend's parent's scotch with coke and chugging it at a sloppy house party. Not that I ever did that. Last Thursday I had the privilege to a Glenfiddich Scotch Tasting at Seattle's secret startup basement, "The Easy" (@founderscoop).

While waiting for the event to start (and I did wait, despite the fact that three glasses of scotch were sitting at my place, tempting me) I took pictures with new friends in the photobooth, provided by Zagat, one of the event sponsors. I now have pictures of Mitch Bechard (@GlenfiddichMB, our host, wearing a pink feather boa and feather hat. Blackmail? Likewise, Peter Fosso (@peterfosso) was a good enough sport to put on some funky glasses and take pictures. I didn't even have to ask Jeff Shilling (@coctailparty) to take silly pictures - he was more than willing to don a gladiator outfit and ham it up in the photo booth.

After taking pictures, Mitch became (somewhat) professional and gave us the Glenfiddich spiel. I don't know much about scotch so it was very informative for me. We tried a twelve year, a fifteen year and and eighteen year scotch. All three were aged in American wood barrels. I learned how to add a couple of drops of water using an eyedropper to take the edge off of the scotch. My favorite was the eighteen year, and after the tasting I enjoyed a glass with the delicious buffet. Thanks to Charles Koh (@charleskoh) for hosting a great event!

Date with Monica

So I finally got around to scheduling a date with my all time favorite person. On my google calendar in a light lavender box, from 10pm - 12:30am, I have "Date with Monica" written in. It's been a while since I've been planning this, and I keep flaking out, but I've finally written it in my calendar, and my calendar is what dictates my fate. I'll probably read some books. Maybe I'll write a blog post or an email or two. I might even eat something, or do some yoga. I'm extremely excited, and a little worried that I might flake out again...but I won't.  

East Coast Skier meet West Coast Snow

I haven't skied a wide variety of slopes. Blue Knob, Seven Springs, Tussey Mountain (where I taught) in Pennsylvania. Valle Nevado in Chile. And that's it.  I never got to go skiing in France because I was rocking a broken wrist the entire ski season. I never got to go skiing on the United State's west coast because I had never been to the west coast until March of this year. But now I'm here - probably for good. And I have no excuse, not even the excuse of having left all of my equipment back in PA, because they have rentals here. And since Steven's Pass, only an hour away, is open until May 6th, I really had no excuse. Not that I wanted an excuse not to go skiing. So I went. My guide, Jeff, decided that the first thing we were going to do was go up the Tye Mill lift and ski some black diamond powder. At the top of the lift, taking pictures in front of the incredible backdrop (I asked Jeff if it was ok if I kept saying "Oh wow." "That's why I brought you here," he told me) we met a couple who had met skiing and were on their 47th year of skiing together. They were smiling all over. The man, well into his 70s, told us that he is learning how to butter. Groovy!

Powder...I don't know if I've ever seen powder in real life, let alone skied it. I've seen the pictures of the skiers whooshing down the slopes up to their waists in powder who look like they're causing an avalanche with their awesomeness. We skirted around the edge of the slope until we found some - soft, fresh and perfectly white. I didn't cause an avalanche, but I still felt kind of awesome.

At the bottom of the hill they had set up a giant air-filled trampoline underneath an 18 foot jump. "Do you want to go try that?" Jeff asked me. "I'm 60% sure that I do," I said. "But let's go ski some more and then I'll be 100%." So we went and skied the rest of the mountain. Jeff had brought an extra pair of headphones and a double jack so that I could listen to his ipod on the lift with him, but I realized that we were getting fewer runs in because we had to unplug everything at the top of the mountain, and that took an extra five seconds off the time that we could have been skiing. I danced to my own mountain music. As Jeff said, skiing is dancing on a snow-covered mountain (while wearing long skinny boards attached to your feet).

When we got down again for lunch, the line for the jump had grown to fifty or more, they were playing music, and everyone was watching from the lodge balcony. Seeing everyone watching, I went from being 100% sure that I wanted to try it to 0% sure. So instead, we watched with everyone else as we feasted on smushed up sesame crackers, pretzel crumbs, and melting chocolate. In fact, I was melting. It was so hot that there were girls skiing in bikinis. Actually, it wasn't hot enough for that, but they were doing it anyway. On the slopes I also saw some pirates, a clown, and a unicorn. I was looking for Waldo but I never found him.

Jeff and I danced some ski-boot swing to the music in front of the lodge and then went back up the mountain to get some more runs in before the mountain officially closed for summer. We caught the last lift up at 4pm, and waited at the top on a rock in the sun until all of the skiers had gone down. The lift guy skied by and hassled us. "After me there's no one left if you hurt yourself." he told us.

"What a goober," I said to Jeff as he passed. The guy obviously heard me because he turned around and laughed. "You guys have fun," he said. "You have to be careful," Jeff advised me. "Sound carries here a little too well."

The mountain host came by on his last run and asked to take our picture. "You guys are great," he said, and left. We were the last ones there. Then, like the curtain call of a play, we stood and skied down, one long, last run, to the bottom.

Except that it wasn't really that graceful, because Jeff got distracted by watching his own shadow in the snow and did an incredible face plant. Not that I hadn't already done a few of those earlier...

At the bottom of the hill, they had closed the rental shop where all of our stuff was stored, so we had to hunt down someone who could open it up for us. Thankfully, we found someone, and managed to make it back in time for me to make dinner for Stark, Victor S, and friends.

*Thanks to Scott for the title!

Yacht Clubbing

The best time to look at a boat is in the rain. If you love it in the rain, you will love it even more in the sun. I had planned to bike over to see it, but I arrived home from work looking like a drowned rat with my fingers frozen into the handlebar position. My thumbs were so numb that I couldn’t even move them enough to shift gears, so I had to use the side of my hand. When I walked in the house dripping wet, my awesome uncle and aunt told me to just take their car to go see the boat. So I did.

Driving in Seattle is weird. Main roads have two lanes - one is for traffic that is turning (but it’s not a turning lane) and one is for traffic that is going straight. If you’re in one lane at rush hour it’s pretty much impossible to get into the other. Also, there are confusing double stoplights. Anyway, I made it all the way to the boat without getting run over and I even found the McGinnis Marina, an industrial looking place near the locks on Lake Union with giant tug boats and fishing boats towering over a handful of tiny sailboats. The owner, “B”, welcomed me aboard his 30’ Newport where his wife was waiting. They took me over the boat and explained all the parts to me. I felt a little more comfortable telling the owners that I was clueless this time. The more you know about something the more comfortable you feel admitting that you don’t know anything. Not that I know much about boats. I found that out when they asked me if I would like to take it out for a spin since the rain was letting up. Would I like to? Are boogers salty?

I gripped the wheel as I motored the boat away from the dock. Driving a boat is a sensation of extreme power. I had never driven anything this large. If I wanted to, I could have caused thousands of dollars worth of damage to this boat or any of the other boats in the lake. I probably could have even sunk some of the other ships if I had rammed them hard enough. I could have run over kayakers or canoes or anything smaller than me and caused havoc. It was an incredible feeling. No wonder Blackbeard became a booty-plundering pirate.

The wind picked up so we raised the headsail.I’m sure there’s a better expression than that in sailor lingo but I don’t have time to look it up right now so I'll just say "Luff Cringle" again. "Luff Cringle." I sailed for approximately three whole minutes. Then B and his wife decided that that was enough of that and told me to head back to the slip. B took the wheel from me before we docked the boat. He must have noticed that glimmer of power in my eyes and he probably didn’t trust me to not ram the boat into the dock. Trying to be helpful, I tied the boat to the dock with a half hitch, which I had learned the other night in Des Moines. B took my half-hitch apart and re-tied it when he stepped off the boat. “Any more questions?” B asked. I told him that was it and I’d be in touch. Then I headed to the Corinthian Yacht Club for their Cinco De Mayo/Opening Day Party.

I wasn’t sure whether to walk in or not, since the sign on the door said “Members Only” and I wasn’t yet a member. But I spotted my friends inside and they waved me in. The party had already been going on for a couple of hours and the tabletop was littered in empty bottles and glasses. The conversation had turned to weigh-ins at races. “I always volunteer to man the scales when the Italian men are weighing in. They literally don’t wear anything for their weigh-ins! They just strip right down to the buff!” Exclaimed the elderly lady across from me. The table of women sailors erupted into laughter. “I always watch them and I’m thinking ‘do they realize that that’s illegal in this country?’ But I certainly hope they don’t!”

All the women talked about the benefits of having a heavier crew. Finally I've found a sport where I can put my love of eating to good use!

Half of the women at my table had sailed around the world at some point. I was in awe, but I realized that we actually had a lot in common - I was able to talk to them about the cliff divers in Acapulco and hanging out on nude beaches on the coast of France. They welcomed me as a Seattle newbie, and talked about the what they loved about living in Seattle, such as being able to sail on day and ski the next. Which happened to be what my plan was for the weekend.

And we all agreed that “There is nothing half so much fun as messing about in boats.”

Which is exactly what I did all day Saturday on lake Whatcom in Bellingham. My coworker Andy took me and we met his friends and sailed from noon until five in the alternately rainy and sunny weather. Since we hadn’t tipped the boat, Andy and I decided to celebrate by diving into the lake. I don’t know why this always happens. It just happens.

I took a dive off the dock and as I hit the water I felt the shock of the cold immediately freeze me hands into the t-rex position. I tried to swim to the dock but I could barely doggy paddled with my clenched-up muscles, and when I got to the dock I wasn’t able to lift myself with my jelly muscles out so Andy’s friend Leo had to give me a hand. Even so, standing on the dock in the mild sunshine I felt rejuvenated. There is nothing like diving into a freezing lake to make you feel like you’re alive.

Tonight, Monday night, I returned to the Corinthian Yacht Club for my first official sailing lesson with Stark. We hadn’t read the chapter of “Getting Started In Sailboat Racing” that we were supposed to read, so I read it aloud in the car and we started to pick up the lingo, like “Spinnaker pole,” “Leeward,” and “Windward.” Somehow, amazingly, we made it there ten minutes early. We were probably the youngest people in the room and the people with the least amount of sailing experience but we didn’t care. Actually, I think we might have also been the most excited people to be there. “I can’t believe this is actually happening,” Stark said as we left. “We’re going to be sailors.”

Sailing and Ukuleles

I never realize the connection between sailboats and ukuleles until last night, sitting on a sailboat in Des Moines, WA. The rain was pouring down in sheets, so what would have been my first ever sailboat race was cancelled, but sitting inside a cozy boat listening to a ukulele concert drinking Californian beer and learning how to tie a bowline knot was not too much of a disappointment. Our hostess, Joan Marie, decided that we should invite the next door neighbors over also, so we walked across the dock and knocked on the side of their 40 foot boat - "The Filthy Whore" (yes, the name was painted on the stern). Two large sailors appeared carrying tiny ukuleles and more beer.  They argued for a bit about which one had the honor of being the namesake of their boat.

Joe, the male half of the duo, was wearing a Hawaiian shirt, shorts, and flip flops despite the cold. He pointed to the boat in the slip across from him, a 42 foot cruiser whose windmill was spinning and turning in the wind.

"The owner has a hot tub inside his boat," said Joe. "If you ever run into him, he'll ask you to come in his hot tub. Whatever you do, don't do it."

Joe seemed to know what he was talking about, so I agreed that I wouldn't go in the neighbor's hot tub. Instead, we went back in the beautiful red 28 foot Islander that I was checking out. That's when the ukulele concert happened. Joan Marie had learned to play when her grandmother, who had also lived aboard, was sick. She said her grandmother had loved it when she played the ukulele. She played Iz's rendition of "Over the Rainbow."  Joe followed up by playing, "Hiphopopotomous" by Flight of the Concords. Yeah, imagine that on a ukulele.

My coworker Andy was pretty handy with the ukulele and caught on quickly. He strummed along on a tiny pink uke that happened to be sitting behind us. I learned the "C", which is really all I need to know since it's the pirate's favorite cord. It's the third fret on the first string. Not to hard.

Joan Marie promised me ukulele lessons if I bought the boat. It was a hard sell.

We played so much ukulele that we were almost an hour late to the documentary Indie Games, which is why I'm not going to post a movie review. From now on though, Fridays will be film review days on the blog.

Sounders vs Galaxy

I'm not going to lie - I went to see Seattle Sounders vs LA Galaxy Wednesday night with the hope of seeing David Beckham. Unfortunately, he was injured and didn't even bother to show up. Fortunately, the Sounders won. I learned most of my Spanish palabrotas by going to futból games. The Sounders game was my first US pro soccer game and I had to learn a whole new set of chants.

First of all, there was the original "Soouuuunnndderrrrss!" shouted in chorus from one side of the stadium to the other. Then there was the creative chant "FIGHT....and WIN!" The people behind us made up their own original chant: "We're better than you!"

We weren't in the crazies section, so we missed a lot of good chants that I probably shouldn't repeat here anyway.

I realized halfway through that the Sounder's Game that the Sounders were my team. I was screaming at them to "step on the ball!" or "kick it in!"  or "Just kick it in, #@% it!" We only won by two. Apparently if we had won by three goals, everybody could have gotten a free haircut, so I had a lot of incentive to encourage the Sounders to win. As it was, since we won we still got free appetizers at Hard Rock Café. We also got glowsticks, and I accidentally cracked mine and got glowstick oil all over myself. I smeared it onto my jeans and my face on the way to the Hard Rock Café. Unfortunately when we walked in they told us that they were closing early. I complemented the waiter on his flair and showed him my glowing jeans, but he wasn't impressed and shoed us out. We ended up in The Alibi Room, Pike Place's worst kept secret bar. Their vegan pizza is scrumptious.

I don't know how it happened. I've been here for three weeks and I'm already saying "we" when I talk about the Sounders. I must already consider myself to be a Seattleite.

Blistering Barnacles

After a wild weekend (you can see the exhaustion in my eyes in this photo taken Saturday night), a Sunday run with Club Northwest and Dim Sum for Sunday brunch with friends, I set off to Orcas Island to search for a boat. If you ever go to Orcas Island, or any island really, make sure that you check the ferry schedule beforehand. By blind luck I made the 3:30pm ferry, otherwise I would have been stuck waiting for two hours and missed getting to see the boat I was going there to look at. Also, if you’re going to Orcas Island, leave your car on shore. After we got there we discovered that they have mopeds for rent right on the ferry dock. At the marina, the boat seller, a sailory looking man with a white beard and a red nose, launched into a description of the engine before we had even gotten to the dock. I was there with Stark, and even though I was asking the questions, the owner assumed that Stark was the one buying the boat since he’s a dude and he directed a steady stream of boat-speak at him. After several minutes of this, Stark said, “Actually, she’s the one that’s buying the boat, so you should talk to her.” The boat owner grunted and continued to address Stark as I took notes in my tiny moleskine. Or rather, I pretended to take notes (I was actually just scribbling random words that the seller was saying as well as a few doodles).

I was a little nervous because I wasn’t sure what to call the parts of the boat I was looking at. I tried to look knowledgeable and skeptical, so I asked about the “beam” and the “draft” as well as the fuel-line, but that pretty much exhausted my boat vocab, so I just shut up and poked my head around the boat. It probably wasn’t necessary for me to feign knowledge however, as the beers he had been drinking had made the owner honest. “It needs about $5,000 worth of work,” he admitted, pointing out the leaky chainplates and rotten wood on the cabin.

Far from discouraging me, the trip made me excited to learn more about boating. I imagined the gentle rocking of the boat underfoot becoming part of my daily life. Waking up on the water, sailing the boat into the sunset, learning how to wire my own outlets with waterproof cables, the constant smell of diesel and wd-40, having to use the bathrooms at the gym when the head stops working, not being able to cook because I can’t get the alcohol burners to work on the stove, freezing in the winter because the propane stove breaks down, dying of carbon monoxide poisoning because the cabin is isn’t properly ventilated - ah, it’s the sailor’s life for me! Seriously, it sounds amazing!

Besides all of these perks, sailing has by far the richest vocabulary of any sport. I just took checked the book “Sailing for Dummies” out of the library. I’m going sailing tomorrow night, so I have to read up on my sailing terminologies so that I sound like an expert. Here is an actual phrase from the book: “If the boat is not equipped with jiffy lines, begin with the luff cringle. Secure it to the boom by catching the grommet on a hook on the boom or by inserting a reefing hook into the grommet and tying it to the boom near the gooseneck. You can also tie the cringle to a cleat on the mast. This creates a new tack. Tighten the halyard to secure it.” And here is an actual phrase that I can say as a sailor: “Secure the luff cringle to the boom grommet! Avast ye scurvy seadogs!”

Luff cringle, luff cringle, luff cringle! I could say that all day long! I’m surprised that more people don’t become sailors based on the vocabulary alone. I can’t wait to start my sailboat racing course next week so that I can say these words to people who will know what they mean (as opposed to spouting them off to random passing strangers.)

Prioritize.

For me, the line between insanity and boredom is about as thin as dental floss. Ever since I added my facebook events to my Google calendar (it's actually very simple - just go to your Facebook events page, click the magnifying glass, click "export events" and copy the link that pops up, then go to Google calendar and where it says "other calendars" just paste the link) my calendar has so much overlap that it looks a bit like a Mondrian. If I miss an event or barely make it, this can leave me feeling over scheduled, double-booked, and burned out. At the same time, if I actually do fulfill all of my obligations I feel energized, fulfilled and like a boss. And since this is such a good feeling, I continue to overbook myself. If I have two or three events in the same block of time I get kind of stuck and waste time deciding which one to attend. I’ve always been sort of a jack of all trades (master of none), but I’ve decided to prioritize my life for the month of May so that I can get better at just a few things. So here is my priority list:

My number one priority is work. I am so lucky to have my job and I want to do great work. Getting to work relatively well-rested (5+ hours of sleep) and on time every day is non-negotiable. My number two priority is sailing. This weekend is opening day for most of the local yacht clubs, and I also have several sailboats booked to look at. I’ve decided that if there is a sailing event and another event, the sailing event will always take priority. I feel very fortunate to have met the wonderful sailors at the Corinthian Yacht Club and I want to make sure that I don’t come across as a flake by bailing on any events. I also want to devote at least half an hour each day to learning more about sailing. My number three priority is running, although I’m not sure that this counts as a priority, since I think running is a necessity like eating or sleeping. I’m counting it as a priority, however, because I want to run more than just maintenance this month so that I can get ready for the Rothrock Challenge. If I have to make a choice between running and going out, running will come first (unless it’s my off-day). My number four priority is socializing and networking. This one is really going to be a challenge (not!). My number five priority is learning to code. Unfortunately, I’m already lagging behind in my computer science course, and apparently there are new code academy lessons that I haven’t even seen yet. I should designate time to this on my calendar each day to make sure that it actually gets done. I’m kind of up in the air about whether this should come after socializing or not, but since this is my third week in Seattle and I want to forge some good friendships I think I’ll leave it as priority 5.

Now that I have my priorities set out, I can color-code my calendar events accordingly so that I know which overlapping event takes precedence.

"Networking"

After work on Friday I had to taper immediately into the weekend. As we know this is always a difficult task if you haven't been practicing. Luckily, I had been practicing since Thursday and was quite warmed up. Still, it was challenging, especially since I was overbooked.Drew, my awesome coworker and neighbor, drove me back to my apartment, where I debated taking a taxi and taking the bus across town to The Corinthian Yacht Club. See, I have already made yacht club friends. I didn’t even need to read a boating book in conspicuous places, or jump out at unsuspecting customers in a boat store. All it took was a bit of networking. And by networking, I mean rock climbing (I love the word “networking” because it can mean anything. In fact, I spent most of this weekend networking). Our guide, Mountain Man Matt, had friends from work who had lived on a boat since 1996. He connected us, and I spoke to his friend Marge on the phone. She invited me to the Yacht Club’s Membership Drive.  “I’ll be there. What do you look like, so I know who to look for?” She asked. “I’m about average height, short brown hair. And really really ridiculously good-looking.” I spent the half hour after getting home from work stressing about how I was going to get to the Yacht Club by 7pm and then to downtown Seattle by 9pm and still have time to get changed for the Bonza Bash. I ran around getting absolutely nothing done and finally decided to just throw my dress in a bag and call a cab. I still don’t have my address memorized. The company called me to tell me that the first cabby had ended up in Ballard because I had given him the wrong directions. So I tried again, and this time the cab showed up and whisked me over to Shilshole Marina where the Corinthians have their club.

I was a little nervous walking in, especially since I was still dressed in my work clothes and carrying a big bag containing my formal dress and shoes for Bonza Bash. The first thing I did in the club was get a glass of wine, since that’s what everyone else seemed to be doing. I tipped the bartender a dollar, and he handed me my tip back. Then I realized that he wasn’t a bartender. He was a club member who was volunteering as a bartender. Oops.

Of course Marge recognized me immediately from my description. She introduced me to some very helpful sailors, including Al and Lou, who are an encyclopedia of boating information, and Bruce, who is teaching Rookie Rally, the boat racing course that starts in two weeks. I signed up and will be learning to race boats starting Monday, May 7th. Don’t worry. When I am a member of the Yacht Club I will still talk to my friends.

The Corinthian Yacht Club is primarily a racing club, but there were several people who had lived aboard. They were fun, friendly and helpful. In fact, they were so helpful that I accidentally stayed and talked until 9pm. Thankfully, a couple of sailors dropped me off downtown, where I put my dress and shoes on in five minutes in my friends' bathroom, left my street clothes at my friends’ house, and rushed over to Bonza Bash, the most formal party in the tallest building in Seattle.

I had planned to meet some other Seattle people in the Polar Bar, but when I walked in, the place was empty and a bartender told me that they had just left. I asked the bartender how to get to Colombia Tower. “It’s one block up the street. Also, it’s the tallest building in Seattle so you can’t really miss it.”

I have to say, the view from the Colombia Tower bathrooms is amazing. Each stall has a spectacular picture window. Helicopters flying by must also get a great view inside.

Seattle’s Social Whore was there, wearing a classy hat and chilling with a group of beautiful ladies. Except that according to this video I must now call him “Seattle's Social Light.” Also, for your viewing pleasure, here I am. Ok, that’s enough of that.

Don't worry. Even though I am famous I will still talk to you. And you can follow me on twitter @houston_monica. Alright, that's enough networking for the weekend.

How Not to be an Adult

I really feel like I’ve gotten the hang of being an adult. For instance, I’ve remembered to brush my teeth almost every day this week. Wednesday night I didn’t do anything wild. Instead I looked into boats and boat mortgages for four hours. I was feeling very mature until my Mom sent me an email on telling me how unwise I was to seriously consider pouring my money into a hole in the water. “You need to face that you are addicted to adventure and try and curb it or find other less financially destructive ways to be adventurous.“That’s something to ponder I guess. Is there perhaps a gainful employment for people who are addicted to adventure?

I pondered it for a bit while waiting for Stark to pick me up from Bothell Bike and Ski, where I had taken my bike for a tune-up. While sitting in an Adirondack chair on their front deck of the shop I made a list of boat-buying pros and cons (reasons to buy a boat? I said I would. Reasons not to buy a boat? my Mom told me not to) and did some more math (if I buy a $20,000 boat now will cost me roughly $100,000 over the next 10 years. Does that sound right? Whatever).

Stark and I planned to do an early lap around Green Lake to start planning for startup weekend on May 18th. Yes, we’re business partners. We plan to invent a way to travel through time while river tubing. And that’s only one of our ideas.

We caught the Seattle Anti Freeze Runners for another lap around Green Lake and then beer. There was a good number of us - maybe fifteen sweaty runners- and we barely fit in the bar.  Nathaniel* from climbing was there, as was Seattle’s Social Whore (Matt objected to the fact that his name was not changed on my blog, so from now on I’ll refer to him as Seattle’s Social Whore, or SSW). I also met the beautiful Salka, the wonderful Allison, and Adrian, who is kind of French. And of course my fellow accidental runner Tony was there.

Somehow we got on the topic of naked races (that may have been my doing. I mentioned that I’d seen a flyer for a nudist race when I was in Road Runner Sports last Thursday). Then the topic turned to skinny dipping, and then somebody joked about jumping in Green Lake, and before I knew it, Stark, Tony, Adrian, Allison and I were standing on the dock by the Green Lake Stadium, removing our sneakers and extra clothes (this is another reason to always wear underpants). Stark bet me a beer that Tony wouldn’t jump in. But Tony tore off his shoes, shouted “what are you all waiting for?” and cannon-balled in. I hopped in after. It was cold. I hopped back out and sprinted several laps around the dock area.

Stark of course had to invite us all back to his apartment’s hot tub so that we could get the full sauna experience. Unlike Sunday night, I accepted the invitation this time. I’d been wise and had a good work ethic for almost four days, so by Thursday I thought I could let my guard down. Also, the trick to being ready for Friday is to start tapering for the weekend on Thursday. It takes some training, but practice makes perfect.

Since Stark now owed me a beer, he was eager to win it back, and he suggested that we make another bet. Through the window of the hot tub room we could see a dedicated, lone runner plugging away on the treadmill. Stark bet me that I couldn’t get her to join us in the hot tub. I was feeling cocky, so I walked into the gym and signalled to her. She took her headphones off and slowed the treadmill down. “Excuse me,” I said. “Would you like to join us in the hot tub? I just made a bet that you would.” “Uh, ok,” she said. “I’m training for a marathon so I need to do five more miles, but I can come in for a bit.” “Thank you! You deserve it. It’s very refreshing and great for sore muscles.”

Stark was too amazed at first to realise that he’d lost the bet. He just sort of sat and stared with his mouth open as the runner took her shoes off and got in. She was very friendly (I had gotten lucky) and mentioned that since she moved here from Vancouver she hadn’t found a good running club. So of course, we invited her to Saturday morning’s run in Queen Anne. So now Stark owes me two drinks.

Finding a Boat Part 2

Now that I have my boater's safety card it's time to move on to steps 1-5 of getting a boat. Step 1: Learn how to sail

I've decided that this step doesn't necessarily have to come first. I can live on a boat and learn how to sail it simultaneously. A user poll suggests that if I do this I have only a 50% of crashing and sinking my boat within the first week of owning it.

Step 2: Hire a boat surveyor

I'm working on this right now. It looks like the average cost for a marine survey is $350. I plan to look at some boats on my own first just to rule a few out and when I find one that I like, I will come back with the surveyor.

Step 3: Take boat surveyor to look at boats

I have a couple of boats lined up to look at this weekend. So far I know that I want something 30ish feet that is comfortable to live aboard yet easy for one person to sail. It should have as little outside wood as possible so that I won't have to be constantly staining it and a propane stove.

Step 3.5: Apply and Qualify for a Boat Loan

This doesn't seem too difficult, although boat loans are harder to get and have higher interest rate than other loans because there is a greater risk of a boat buyer disappearing with their new boat than there is for, say, a homeowner disappearing with their new home.

Step 4: Find Moorage

This is one of the most complicated steps. I will probably write a more detailed post about this when I actually know what I'm talking about.

Step 5: Buy a Boat

Self-explanatory. As they say, the second happiest day of a boat owner's life is when she buys a boat. The happiest day is when she sells it. At least I'll have something to look forward to.

First Day

Ça y est. Je viens d'y naitre. J'sais pas ou je vais, ni ou j'suis,  Mais tous veulent y être.

That's it. I was just born there.  I don't know where I'm going, or where I am,  but everyone wants to be there. 

Today was my first day of work. It felt a bit like my first day of school. Grade school. I played games with the other new hires out in the parking lot and ate a lot of snacks. Like, a really lot of snacks. We actually watched a video about work etiquette and not eating a lot of snacks, but I did it anyway. I think I've always been a rebel.

I also sat in a massage chair with controls in Japanese. If you pressed the yellow button and then pressed the button with the sun on it it would massage your whole back, but if you pressed the button with the moon on it it would massage only your butt. That kind of makes sense.

It was a beautiful day, and a great first day. A good day for a fresh start.

Chances Multiply if You Grab Them

There are two paths in life. One can either have friends or one can have a blog. I now have three or even more people in Seattle who I am happy to call my friends because they say things like "we should hang out," or "we should totally get together sometime," or even, "you guys should take Monica rock climbing instead of me because I'm going to be too tired to go." Which is what someone actually said last night when I was out drinking with said friends at a posh hotel called "The Edgewater." One of these friends, Stark, is a member of the running club that I accidentally joined, and Saturday morning he had been cleaning up Alki beach for Earth Day with his roommates when he ran into Max walking on a tightrope on the beach. He asked to try the tightrope and somehow both of them realized that they both knew me. Amazing - only a week in Seattle and I'm already known by two people who meet by chance. Which is how I ended up drinking with Stark and friends at The Edgewater Saturday night.

Which is why I woke up at 6:30am on Sunday morning so that I could throw some clothes in a bag and get a ride to Leavenworth. My new friend Stark arrived promptly at 8am to pick me up, an hour after the planned arrival. His friend Pierre, in the front seat, assured me that he's always late because even though he's a rocket scientist he doesn't realize that driving takes time. We met up with five other friends in Ravenna and loaded the gear into the cars (well, they loaded the gear into the cars. What are friends for?). We also took in another passenger, Nathaniel*.

On the two hour drive to Leavenworth we shot the shit about a million topics, ranging from electronic music to Pierre's past involvement in French gangs, to Nathaniel's semi-past involvement in being a geek. The topic turned naturally to sports, and Stark regaled us with his kayaking exploits, such as going over a twelve foot waterfall.

"But it only looked like it was ten feet because there was a lot of foam at the bottom," he said modestly. "Do you still kayak?" I asked, intrigued. "No, I decided that I wanted to devote more time to tubing."

Yes, tubing, a much more hardcore sport. To help him get better, Nathaniel and Pierre drafted a tubing conditioning program for Stark, which included exercises such as floating in his hottub in an inner tube, and perhaps even attempting to hold onto a cooler full of beers with the hottub jets turned on.

Finally we arrived in Leavenworth and drove along Icicle Creek to the climbing area, an outcropping that overlooks the creek and looks up at the snowy peaks of the "Sleeping Lady." After another hour of dilly-dallying, including a trip to the gas station for snacks, we were ready to climb. We grabbed some gear (even me this time) and made our way up the slope to our start point. When I say that "we made our way up the slope" I mean that after wandering around in the brambles for slightly less time than it took Israel to get to the Promised Land we finally found a path to the desired outcropping.

As a Pennsylvanian, even just getting to the foot of the rock face felt higher than I usually go in the chair lift when I'm skiing. I mean, we were looking down at the birds. Not that I'm afraid of heights, I'm just afraid of falling off of them. We were thankfully with our seasoned guide, Mountain Man Matt, so there was nothing, or not much, to be afraid of. Matt and Nathaniel fastened the rope to our first climb. I don't have my own shoes, but thankfully someone had shoes my size, a harness my size, and a helmet that fit my small brain perfectly (my brain is one of my favorite body parts so I choose to protect it).

When it was my turn, I was strapped in and tied up and I started up the rocks as my belayer, Stark, shouted "you're doing great" (I told him to encourage me). There was a ledge, and then a second, steeper rock face. I couldn't get my foot up onto the second face, but thankfully Mountain Man Matt used his brute force to haul me into the air from above (I thought Stark was doing it, but later found out that it was Matt) and I finished the ascent. I scratched my knees up pretty bad while climbing and I'm sorry to say that my days of being a knee model are over.

After that I climbed once more and there was a lot more shooting the shit, eating, and lying around getting a tan before we called it a day and went back to Leavenworth center for delicious Mexican food and beer.

Stark suggested that we all join him in his hottub for some tubing exercises but since tomorrow is my first day of work I decided against it. This is possibly my first wise choice as an adult.

*names in this story have been changed to protect the innocent

P.S. I am drinking tea and I just saw that my tea bag has a quote on it. It says "Chances multiply if you grab them." I like that and I'm going to use it as the title.

Running Clubs of Green Lake

One of the things I was most worried about when leaving State College was leaving the Rec Hall Regulars running group. How would I be able to find a group of goofy, immature guys (and girls) who run fast enough to push me but don't leave me in the dust? On Saturday last week I went to my cousin's track meet in Pasco (a tiny town in eastern Washington nestled among sagebrush and velvety grey hills) and my cousin's coach suggested I try Club Northwest. They meet Wednesdays and Saturdays for tempo and track workouts, and Sunday mornings for a long run.

Sunday morning I met them at 9am in front of Super Jock and Jill and we did 13.2 miles around North Seattle at a brisk pace. There were about 10 people running, mostly younger guys. Everyone was very friendly and they sold me on the perks of the club - pay a $50 yearly fee and get a free Club Northwest t-shirt, discounts at local running stores including Super Jock and Jill, enter races at a discount, get a free stride evaluation, and get to run cross-country against other clubs. The runners seem to be pretty hardcore and focused on improvement. After the run I lay in bed and ate chocolate the rest of the afternoon and didn't even feel guilty about it (not that I ever feel guilty about it).

Tuesday night I decided to try the Green Lake Running Group, which I'd found on meetup.com (seriously, this site is a lifesaver in a new city). They have runs around the lake every day of the week except Sunday, and two track workouts on Mondays. Basically, no matter what time of day you are free there is a run for you, and since there are over 1,000 members you will never have to run alone again. Some of the perks include 10-25% discounts at Road Runner Sports and special First and Third Thursday runs where they drink beer afterwards.

Even though it was raining Tuesday night there were about 15 people there at 6:30pm, and we took off to do three miles or so around Ravenna Park, with an optional extra lap around Green Lake (three miles) at the end. They divided into different pace groups as we ran so that there was something for everybody.

I skipped the tempo run with Club Northwest on Wednesday night and went bouldering instead. Shout out to Max if he's reading this!

Thursday I showed up for Green Lake Running Group's special "Thirdsday" run at Road Runner Sports. They were raffling off running gear so I put my name in the hat.   It was raining again but there were still at least 50 runners meandering around the store. One group took off for a 5 mile 6:40 tempo run. I didn't do that, but I did do a five miler past the Zoo with Tony, another runner from Tuesday. At the end of our five miles we stopped to stretch and chat in front of Green Lake Bar & Grill with the group. It was a smaller group, about 16 people, but very friendly. They asked how we had found their group and we said we'd seen their meetup. "Oh," said Matt, a guy who seemed to be in charge, "we don't get many runners from meetup. Usually people find us on our website." "I didn't know you had a website," I said. "Yeah, it's just www.seattleantifreeze.com." He said. I wasn't sure why it had a completely different name, but I didn't ask.

"Where are we drinking?" I asked. "Tacos Guaymas," answered Matt.

At Tacos Guaymas, as we were chatting and sipping our beers and eating our nachos, I asked about the raffle. "When do we find out who won?"

"Raffle?" Asked Lauren, the girl sitting next to me. "What raffle?"

"You know, the Road Runner Sports Raffle...?"

"Uh...I think you ended up with the wrong group."

It was true. We were drinking beers with the Seattle Antifreeze Runners. They are part of the greater club, Seattle Antifreeze, whose mission is to disprove the "Seattle Freeze" phenomenon (when people from Seattle seem friendly but never call you back). They run on Saturdays and Wednesdays. There's a lot of overlap with the Green Lake Running Group, and they said they also join them for their special Thursday runs.

We had a good laugh. In the end it was a great mistake. Matt, who described himself as "Seattle's biggest social whore" promised to make it his mission to introduce me to as many people as possible, and Lauren invited me to see a Johnny Cash cover band, "Cash'd Out" tomorrow night. Looks like I won't be spending my evenings talking to plants anymore!

How to Win Friends and Influence People (when you don't even know your own zip code)

You might think that a library is a really good place to meet friends, but it isn't. I visited Seattle's main Public Library yesterday - a dizzying structure made of glass and steel - mostly glass. I somehow found my way to the 10th floor through a series of stairs that felt like a rat maze. At the top I looked down over the low railing at the people in the 2nd floor lobby. I felt kind of nauseous. A lady was waiting for the elevator nearby. "This is a dizzy building," I remarked to her.

"I can't wait to get back to solid ground." She agreed.

"I think I might puke," I said.

But thankfully I didn't. She was the only person I spoke to in the library. Everyone else was too busy reading. I went downtown and talked to the guy in the information booth in front of Pike Place Market. "Hi," I said. "I'm new to Seattle and I don't know anybody and I don't have any idea where I am or what I'm doing."

He took pity on me and gave me all of the Seattle literature and explained the map of Seattle to me in detail. So at least now I have a map.

The library actually isn't the worst place to meet friends. If you stay in your room and read in bed all afternoon like I did today (except for a brief excursion to Whole Foods, where I bought "organic bath tissue") you are guaranteed to not meet anybody. It was great reading-in-bed weather though, and I had stocked up on books at the library.

Now I think I'm going to head downtown because Greyhound just called to tell me to come pick up my box as soon as possible. Apparently the box is leaking strange fluids. Hopefully it's not bike lube. Or art supplies...

Finding A Boat Part 1

I think I've told everyone by now that I want to live on a sailboat, so by popular demand, I'm now going to go over how I plan on doing this. First of all, I just passed my boater safety test online (necessary for all Washington state boaters under age 30 operating a vessel with 14 horsepower or greater) so congratulations to me. Now there are just a couple of steps left:

• learn how to sail
• hire a boat inspector
• look at sailboats with a boat inspector
• buy a seaworthy sailboat that meets my requirements (28-36 ft, nice galley, adequate head, comfortable berth)
• find a place to moor said boat - probably in Lake Union since they don't allow live-aboard boats on most of Lake Washington
• Sail the boat to its new home

The only problem is that learning how to sail, finding a boat, and getting moorage are kind of a catch-22. In order to learn how to sail you have to either own a boat or know people who sail. In order to meet people who own boats and know how to sail you have to be part of a yacht club or own your own boat. In order to be part of a yacht club you usually have to own a boat and know other boaters. It also helps to be part of a yacht club in order to get moorage because sometimes there are discounts and other perks.

So somehow I have to meet people who are part of a yacht club. I'm pretty sure that hanging out near the yacht club with a sign that says "Please let me in your club" won't help. Instead, I'm going to hang out in a boat store and accost random people to get them to talk about their boats if they walk near me. I also got a book out of the library about boats that I am going to pretend to read in conspicuous places until somebody who is a boater comes by and sees our common boating interest and talks to me. Or else I'll just wait until July when the Seattle Yacht Club offers sailing lessons to the public...

P.S. - I went to the store to buy myself a plant friend but unfortunately they were out of aloe plants.