Yesterday, in a sudden, infantile burst to see the Sea Otters (Enhydra lutris), I begged Zach to go downtown with me to the Seattle Aquarium. But, I forgot that
A. it's a holiday weekend
B. it's a sunny, mild holiday weekend (which is unusual for February)
So, imagine my surprise when I see a line of families (read: annoying, puking, screaming, crying, messy children) stretching out on the boardwalk by the entrance.
I turn to Zach: "I can't do this. The sea otters will be there another time."
Zach: "It's okay. We're by the Colman docks. Let's take the ferry to Bainbridge Island and look around there."
Bainbridge Island, believe it or not, is an island! A relatively small one, due west from Seattle across the Puget Sound. It's a 35-minute ferry ride from downtown Seattle (and relatively cheap, I might add). From what I can tell, the island is full of expensive homes with views of
A. the Puget Sound
B. downtown Seattle on a clear day,
C. the Kitsap Peninsula (arrowhead-shaped peninsula just west of Bainbridge)
It isn't densely-populated, though. A small downtown area sits comfortably near the ferry docks, shielded from Seattle by a small forest. A leisurely-paced state highway branches off from the ferry terminus, cuts through the island, and crosses a small bridge on the northwest corner, connecting Bainbridge to the Kitsap Peninsula, and thus to the mainland. For those of you driving from Seattle to the Olympics for... oh say... lesbian weddings in Sequim, hiking, or catching the Port Angeles ferry to Vancouver Island (just as a few examples) would do well to use the ferry as a shortcut. It's a pleasant drive across the island. And, when going from the Kitsap to the Olympic Peninsula, I still go apeshit when crossing the Hood Canal Bridge.
So, we made our way from the child-infested Aquarium to the Coleman Dock ferry terminus, found a few visitor guides to Bainbridge, and found some restaurants and shops in the smaller downtown area we'd like to explore. All-in-all, it was an enjoyable afternoon. But, on the ferry ride over, we saw heaps of tourists taking advantage of a most unseasonable winter, snapping pictures of Mount Rainier, the downtown, the Olympic Range, Bainbridge Island... all on a crisp, nearly-cloudless day.
The seagulls were out in full force - and many of them were snapping pictures and throwing bread. I don't just mean a few crubs from their snacks, but whole freaking loaves here. I'm amazed at how people can be captivated by gulls. When we moved to Florida when I was younger, I'd had my fill of gulls after about five minutes. Pesky, opportunistic scavengers... a step down from crows and ravens. And yet, here are about two dozen tourists on the upper deck tossing out handfuls of bread and French fries, gleefully snapping pictures and laughing at their own clever ways. Zach and I were sitting in a lounge on the upper deck reading in front of a window that, unfortunately, looked out on this spectacle. But, I'm stubborn - we sat down there, because I was getting a good view of the Olympic Range (which one could still see if one peered long enough through the fat tourists)... and I'll be DAMNED if I was going to move. So, we stayed there, and continued reading. Occasionally alarmed as a tourist came dangerously close to falling off the ferry as he leaned over the railing to get that Pulitzer Prize-winning shot of a gull devouring half of a hot dog bun.
Behind us sat a sixtysomething woman with big hair, her daughter with frizzy blonde hair, and her daughter's daughter's, five-year and seven-year-old hellions. Mom and grandma were encouraging the girls to continuously run from one side of the lounge to the other, climbing over passengers and kicking over newspapers and bags, as they saw their dad, outside of the lounge, throwing fries and bread to the gulls for their entertainment. Mom then became amazed at an apparent one-legged gull (me: "It has a second leg tucked under it's body, dumbsh*t...") and stopped her offspring long enough to point it out:
"See, angels? Daddy's near a one-legged bird! Isn't that bird STUPID for having one leg?"
The kids vomited a klaxon of replies, basically lamenting that they couldn't see because they're short. Mom and grandma soon saw what the problem was:
Mom: "Why, there's a BIG HEAD in the way."
Grandma: "Yes, that big head should move so you can see the dumb bird."
Mymymy, I wonder what big head they were talking about... Oh, it's me!! I shot mom an evil backwards glance, as she waited, thinking she'd get me to retreat with huge head hung low between my shoulders. But no, it's my spot. And I wanted to see if her husband would fall overboard. My initial reply really was going to be, "Lady, something died on your head." But, I thought it'd scar the children too much to see their mother cry openly. Plus, her neanderthal husband could break me in two if properly provoked.
The children, having lost interest in the mythical one-legged gull that lived behind a head large enough to be a planet, resumed their chaos and malcontent. Mom and grandma, frustrated that their campaign of terror had failed to unseat me, decided that a strategic retreat was in order. Calling neanderthal father in to gather up the hellions, mom and grandma decided, twenty minutes into a thirty-five minute ferry ride, that the ferry was "about to dock" (we're still quite far from the island at this point), and that it'd be a good idea to return to their SUV two levels down.
I kept my seat. I have a big head. I won.
But, I'm also struck by something unrelated to my big head, gulls, or bad parents and grandparents: why has it been so sunny this winter? Last winter in Seattle saw plenty of sunny days interrupting short spells of rain/fog/drizzle/sunless skies. Seattlites then labelled it as an "unusual winter," since the sun popped out so frequently. Last summer, meteorologists bemoaned the lack of water, since last winter had been so "unusual" and dry. But, this winter, while pleasant, has been worse. If anything, we've had spells of sun occasionally interrupted by rain/drizzle/fog/clouds. They say the ski resorts are flogging themselves and performing bizzare rituals in a vain attempt to summon snow. The mountains have looked disturbingly summer-like. We've had a few warm spells that have set Irises blooming.... and it's only FEBRUARY. Dark rumors circulate about water rationing this summer (not that anyone should be watering their lawns anyway). I'm also concerned about electricity, since almost all of our power is generated from hydroelectric systems. Apparently, I've lived up here for two mild (if nonexistent) winters. But, I'm starting to understand how we'll pay for it come summer.
Posted by James at February 20, 2005 09:11 AM