Seattle, WA.
So I’m sitting on the plane with a notebook full of (notes!) reasons as to why I’m sitting on this plane. Because I need it. Because everyone thinks I’m slightly unbalanced. I open it and wonderifperhaps*- the girl who wrote it, er wasn’tinfactintoxicated*.
*you have no way of knowing this- but that is my Eddie Izzard voice. Yeah.
It says:
You have no idea what you’re doing or where you want to go with life. But you do know these things…
-you love life, people, and the idea of being in love.
-you like to travel and write
(And then in big bubbly letters)
PHYSICALITY, feel, touch, see, taste, do, *BE*.
I freakin’ hate thinking and talking about doing things.
Enough with the foreplay.
Oh well, glad you made that clear there Kell... ::sigh:: This might be an EPICfail moment. And I just remembered- I don’t really care for flying either. Great.
The plane lands. It’s 8:30am. I’m in Seat- er wait, where the hell am I? Turns out the SeaTac Airport is about halfways between Seattle and Tacoma. (OooOOohh... *that’s* why it’s called ‘SeaTac’) I’m the middle of nowhere. Luckily for me, a tour bus filled with sweet old ladies from Calgary let me hitch a ride into the city. I don’t know- I have one of those ‘ADOPT ME’ faces or something:) I expected some sort of folksy Canadian sing along during the trip but instead had all of my bigcity girl fantasies crushed by our backwards-yet-lovable neighbors to the north with exclamations of ‘Minneapolis! Aren’t you just a quaint little thing?’ ...I probably deserved that;)
I had no real agenda when I arrived (well, you know- except for the whole ‘no more foreplay’ thing...) so I just meandered around shyly for a while. There was so much to see and do- it was like I wasn’t even myself, just a vessel collecting images and senses. Queen Anne’s to Pioneer Square to Downtown and Pike Place Public Market. My feet are starting to ache but I can’t stop looking. I find a grassy knoll by the ocean and sit for a minute and then... I can’t contain it anymore. I actually scream out loud. OH MY FREAKIN GOD, I’M IN SEATTLE:D Happy dancing and some rolling about round the ground ensues. It’s the first time I’ve spoken since I’ve arrived. Thank god they seem to be used to insane tourists here. I feel good. No tension, no dramatic musings. Just happy. It’s getting late so I limp back to my hotel room a block away from the Space Needle. (Kudos to BW, I suppose- you know, for hooking me up and all)
After napping a bit (Hey- vacation) I decide I want to see the skyline at night. I manage to make it the block to the Space Needle without getting roofied or anything! It’s late enough that it’s just me and 4 other couples at the top. Every last pair asked *me* to take their picture. Yeah. I think I might be getting why I’m actually here. I glance at my fellow sightseers- arms wrapped around each other, heads nestled, contented sighs... ::sigh:: One of the lovers asks me if I’d like her to take my picture. And I smile and say no- but thank you. She asks if I’m lonely and I say yes, but being lonely is not so bad. And I realize it’s not.
And I managed to hang on to those feelings all the way back to my room- where it was *painfully* apparent (CALIFORNIAKING) I was all by myself. Shoot. Ok, I *may* have gotten just a wee bit mopey. A wee bit. ::tear:: You know that song? ‘All by myselffffff, don’t wanna be- alllll by mySEEEeeE-‘
*thunk*
*thunkthunk*
…what in the hell is THAT? :O
*thunkthunkthunk*
omg. Someone has a key to my room and the lock bar is preventing them from entering.
Belligerent Drunk Voice: Lemme in you stupid whore!
Me: :O!!
BDV: I’m gonna kill you *mumblemumble* bitch *unintelligible* I fucking hate you!
Me: *creeping up to the crack in the door- all eyes and nerves* Excuse me sir, I think you have the wrong room-
(In his state, he cannot even tell I am not the whore/bitch in question. Maybe now would be a good time to call the front desk)
Me: Hey, there’s a dude...
FD: Yeah, I realized I made the wrong key right after he walked away.
Me: *waiting*
FD: Would you like me to do something?
Me: Uh... *looks over and sees the guy trying to use his key to unhook the lock bar* Erm, maybe?
He promised to send security up ‘right away’. In the 10 minutes that followed BDguy switched his tactics up and starting professing his undying love for me. (You know, when I wasn’t being such a bitch and all... ;) Then he would try and kick the door down starting the whole cycle over again. Security then arrived! I’m saved! I won’t become the reason women aren’t supposed to travel by themselves! Yay! Wait, dude no, wha..? No! Don’t let him in *my* room!
Apparently FD didn’t tell security what was going on. Security just assumed he was with me and was going to let him collect his things. So now BDguy is crawling in my bed as I’m trying to explain that I’ve *never* seen this guy before. Guess what happened them- yep, Whore/Bitch showed up. (You know, I don’t mean to complain, but sometimes my luck just *sucks*) Turns out she was in the room right next door to me... Um, thanks for waiting there WB.
So now I have a drunk guy rolling around in my bed, a drunk girl shouting obscenities at the drunk guy, and a security guard standing there not knowing what to do. (Kudos revoked, BW) Screw this- I’m going outside for a smoke. And when I got back the room was empty and BDguy and WB were having incredibly loud, wild drunken monkey sex right on the other side of the paper thin wall. Ok, you know the whole ‘wanting to be in love’ ::tear:: thing? Yeah, I’m freakin’ cured!
The next day I had 3 caramel frappuccinos and 2 raspberry white mochas. Damn I’m gansta. Then I got on the plane home. My feet have taken strange new shapes and I haven’t slept in a week. Mission accomplished.
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