It’s an abomination what hotels are charging to use their Wi-Fi. High above the city, you are stories above the nearest Starbucks or college dorm with an unprotected network just so you can get a hit on your email server or watch a quick YouTube video of a cat riding a robotic vacuum.
Scoping out a new city to live in can be tough, especially when the rest of your family is back home and you are charged with finding a new place to call home.
Shortly after Christmas, my wife stayed back East and I was bound for the Pacific Northwest. Grabbing a hotel on Hotwire.com I was able to get a nice room downtown, not too far from everything. I met up with an old friend, Rich, from college to graciously take me around the city and show me the neighborhoods in a few short days. The days were spent walking around the city from Sodo to Belltown to Lower Queen Anne. On the chance that there may be a suitable apartment on the outskirts, Rich drove and I bought drinks.
Nights were spent in the hotel after I had dined at the local Subway or Jimmy John’s. With about two days left before I left for home, I cracked. I had been mocking the $15.95/day Wi-Fi plan saying that I’ll never need it. My Motorola flip-phone wasn’t cutting it and my iPod Touch had few games on it that I hadn’t finished many times over. So I pulled the trigger, I signed up for the Wi-Fi…and it was shit.
Could not stream a damn thing to save my life. Buffered everything until the screen timed out. Frustrated, I took a look at the New Releases on iTunes and with a bit of nostalgia mixed in with my want to remain frugal, I bought the Christmas With Weezer EP. I was missing home and I thought a little Christmas music would do the trick. It kinda did. Wasn’t a huge fan of Weezer at the time, but I knew who they were and enjoyed their sound. Rock acts trying to do Holiday or Seasonal albums tend to drop the ball on the sound and get absorbed in their own. Not with Christmas With Weezer, it’s more of a gentle tip of the cap to the Traditional than a “It’s my song now and I’ll do whatever I want with it” attitude.
The morning I was supposed to leave (6 AM flight on New Year’s Eve…never again) I couldn’t sleep and wanted to squeeze the last bit out of the $15.95 I was ripped off for on the hotel Wi-Fi I looked for a 24-hour joint where I could get a bite. This is Seattle, there has to be tons of them. Nope! The only places that were open…Beth’s Cafe and The Hurricane. Beth’s was too far, so a walk to The Hurricane was the trick.
My first impressions of Seattle made me excited and nervous at the same time. Living on the East Coast can harden you to people and things. Grabbing a booth at The Hurricane was easy, I was the only one there at 3 AM with the exception of a couple of regulars strapped in at the bar. They weren’t drunk, just spilling their bottomless cups of coffee between sips. Except for the girl on the end.
I had ordered my 12 egg omelet and was waiting for it to come when all of a sudden I heard the waiter/host/part-time chef wearing the Boston Red Sox ballcap yell, “GET THE FUCK OUT!”
Startled me a little bit, thinking he was talking to me, the only person in the room with the exception of the regulars. Nope, it was the girl on the end, eating her own hair. Not just a strand or two had slipped between her lips, she was full-on munching down her own follicles.
On my Seattle excursion to find a new place to call home, I found that the city has character, the city also has characters, and a lack of places to go at 3 AM when you just want a bite to eat.
|We Wish You A Merry Christmas||1:25|
|O Come All Ye Faithful||2:05|
|O Holy Night||4:04|
|The First Noel||2:23|
|Hark! The Herald Angels Sing||1:33|