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This is my account of my week from May 30 to June 6 inclusive. It
happened roughly something like this… [Yeah, right]
What about that week? This was actually a wonderful week, but I,
being the pessimist that I am, remember one distinct thing about
it… I missed my workouts. Now, if you're thinking that I'm one
of those radical fitness people… you're wrong. I'd like to think
that I'm not obsessed with my body. Far from it. It's more of a
health and fitness thing. It started when I realized I was getting
winded going up two flights of stairs; I also realized that there
might be some family history for problems.
So I work out. I've been going regularly for over a year and it
feels a little strange to miss it… almost like forgetting to
brush your teeth. [Yuck!]
The good news is that it means that I had presumably more important
things to do. I'll let you be the judge… [Sorry, it's so
long]
Saturday, May 30, 1998 - A Marvel in Engineering - I had made plans to spend the day with my friend Ted, but I wasn't entirely sure if I was. We had made tentative plans the previous week to see the Museum of Flight, and I called him up the night before. No answer. I left a message. Stayed up late as I normally do. I don't know… it might have been as late as 6am before I finally went to sleep. You know how it is… Things to see… people to do. In any case, I have this nasty habit of staying up until my mind starts to fade, which I'm sure is not terribly healthy.
So Saturday comes around. I'm sleeping [Zzzz…] or more accurately I was sleeping. What on earth is that infernal sound? Somewhere in the back of my barely coherent mind I'm wondering why my alarm clock's buzzer has changed so much and why it doesn't stop when I smack it. I then come to realize that this is not the alarm, but it is actually the phone. Who on earth is calling me at this time of the morn… Oh, it's past noon. Maybe I should consider getting out of bed like most humans. Now you might imagine that I get cranky when awoke, but that's not really true.
Oh, yes… the phone. It's Ted. He's driving up. He lives about an hour's drive away, so I have plenty of time to get out of bed and shower and get ready. It's going to be cool to see Ted. I look up the info on the Museum of Flight on Sidewalk and check mail. Yes, I know... not incredibly organized, but at least it's better than Ted and I have done in the past. On occasion, we have embarked on some escapades with less than sketchy directions... like near the Kingdome.
When Ted arrives, we decide to grab a late lunch and we go to Dixie's Barbecue. Now, Dixie's has been rated as one of the better barbecue places around here. The proprietor, Gene Porter [I think] is from Louisiana [I think] and used to own an auto repair shop in conjunction with the barbecue. As a matter of fact, the restaurant is still in the same building. No joke. The proprietor also has this peculiar habit of asking the patrons whether or not they want to "meet the man!" What he is referring to is his hot barbecue sauce.
This sauce is a bright orange-red and has the consistency of about toothpaste. It is easily the hottest sauce I've ever had. He typically puts less than a teaspoon of the sauce with whatever you happen to be eating. Suffice it to say that the first time you taste it, a number of things are likely to cross your mind. Like… How did he manage to package Hell into a barbecue sauce? Does he have sadistic tendencies? Lastly, you question your own intelligence and wonder if it has done permanent dain bramage... that is if your head doesn't explode.
However, Ted and I manage to have lunch without being approached by the proprietor, which is both a relief and a disappointment. It's a relief that I don't have to endure it… a disappointment that I don't get to see Ted suffer through it. Yes, I know… all this damned machismo. The barbecue is exceptional like it always is; the man is gifted.
In case you're wondering… no, you don't have to "meet the man." It's just that enduring the excruciating heat of the sauce is debatably more tolerable than the ridicule of your friends, and it probably wears out faster. Hey, what are friends for?
After lunch Ted and I head off to the Museum of Flight. It is an uncharacteristically nice Saturday in Seattle and we drive there with the top down on my Del Sol. Now, I'm not saying that there aren't nice days in Seattle, but they normally fall in the middle of the week. We managed to find it on the first try, which brings our average up to about .200. We enter and start looking at the exhibit. Oh, incidentally, in case you missed it, both Ted and I are engineers.
As I look through the exhibit, I noticed how many of the early planes were designed for mail service. I suppose that makes sense, but it is something that didn't really occur to me. When we think of planes, we typically think of travelling. I mean, think about it… That credit card bill you just sent in the mail is going to get on some flying apparatus and travel elsewhere… and we complain about paying 32¢ for a stamp. [Sigh] Now, I'm not a big pro-military person, but I have to admire the strength and agility of fighter planes.
I had recently finished reading Skunk Works by Ben R. Rich. It was a Christmas present from my baby sister, Aileen. She's an engineer too, though she won't tell me what she works on. In any case, the book talks about Lockheed's Skunk Works program, famous for building the Blackbird and Stealth Fighter. They had a Blackbird on display. After reading about the engineering, the creativity, and the hardships it took to build and test, it was a breathtaking experience to see one up close.
Note: People often talk about art and creativity. They make references to drawings, paintings, music, sculptures, prose, plays, and poetry… even dance. Engineering is a form of art that is often neglected. The application of science is an art. The natural sciences (like physics and chemistry) are the brush and canvas. It is different from other forms of art in that it doesn't cater to an audience nor does the product really matter. The art in engineering is the process by which an object is created, not the object itself. I'm not making the claim that all engineering is artful, but neither is all drawing, paintings, etc. Well, anyway, that's just my opinion.
They also had an older Air Force One on display. I found that particularly interesting not so much because of the plane itself, but more because of the era. It was in service during the Kennedy years and they listed a number of famous trips and passengers. Jackie Kennedy had a bathroom outfitted to her specifications. I'm so easily amused.
The remainder of the day with Ted went fairly uneventful. Ted and I went back to my place and tinkered with my computer. We were trying to get some things working right and spent a few minutes looking at it. He eventually leaves to meet up with another friend. I then go out to grab a bite to eat, or more accurately, I pick up some take out. I return home to find a message on my answering machine.
Oh, Tina is in town… Uhmm… Tina?! Tina is an old high school friend of mine… and a good friend of Aileen, my baby sister… and my buddy Alex's cousin. The last time I saw her was about seven years ago shortly after I graduated college. Okay, before I let your perverse imagination run wild… She and I are friends! And she is also married, to a wonderful guy (Sam) I might add. So we chatted for a little while and made plans to meet the next day. Very cool!
Sunday, May 31, 1998 - You want to do… what!? - [Buzz… Buzz…] Okay, this time the infernal sound was the alarm. Why is it going off at this time on a Sunday? Oh, that's right… I'm meeting Tina and Sam for lunch. I scramble out of bed and wander into the shower. Thank goodness it is tough to stay asleep in the shower. So after the shower, I get ready doing the usual stuff. As I get ready to leave I realize that I have rented videotapes. I drop them off on the way.
I met them at their hotel. It was delightful seeing them again. We spent the first few minutes catching up on what has gone on the last few years and reminiscing about some of the things we did when we were younger. Incidentally, Tina and Sam are both Asian, Taiwanese as a matter of fact. The only reason this bears mentioning is because they remind me a little of the Chinese community I left In Florida. In any case, they tell me they're toying with the idea of moving here to the Seattle area. My initial thought was… “You want to do… what?!”
Okay, let's be fair. Seattle really isn't that bad a city. Actually, it is often listed as one of the better cities to live in. I can certainly think of worse places. I mean… the crime rate is not bad, the weather is mild (nothing too extreme), there's no state income tax, and the cost of living is reasonable. However, I will make the claim that Seattle and I are a bad combination… picture peanut butter and mayo sandwiches. Being multicultural, I miss being able to not only speak other languages, but also experience the culture; Seattle is quite lacking in its ethnic diversity and also quite oblivious of this fact. Although technically it doesn't rain that much here in Seattle, the weather, the grayness especially, will probably eventually get to you. You eventually get used to the webbed feet and gills. As for the personality of the city, it is just too nice… You know like when you hear the word nice when referring to a person and you picture spineless? That kind of nice. I mean to the point where you almost see the word sucker painted on his/her forehead, figuratively, of course.
Okay, back to Tina and Sam. I show them around a bit. We stop off to get lunch at an Asian grocery. We even stop by work so that they could see my office… and get free soft drinks. I introduce them to some of my friends that are tinkering around at work. I also show them around the campus. We take pictures; you know the drill. Since they're interested in living in the suburbs, we drive around the suburbs and I point out their differences. I point out similarities with some of the towns in Fort Lauderdale, where Tina and I went to high school. It makes me a little homesick.
After driving around for a bit, we eventually head back to their hotel. They're still not used to Pacific time, so they're pretty tired. We make tentative plans for the week and we say goodbye. It would be fun to have them move out here. Besides being good friends with them, I could then persuade my baby sister to come visit me more often. As soon as I get home, I call Aileen and tell her about Tina's trip.
I then track down my buddy, Len. We have this tradition of having dinner on Sundays, which we do probably over ninety percent of the time. We get together and have dinner and chat. Naturally, I talk about the visit from Tina and Sam, and the previous day with Ted. We talk about just about anything…. Why our cars break down… Which is the better baseball team… etc.
Tuesday, June 2, 1998 - Dinner with Tina - Tina is taking off on Wednesday. Unfortunately, some friends of mine have made some tentative plans on Wednesday and I call to confirm. Since we are meeting on Wednesday, Tina, Sam and I make dinner plans for Tuesday. So evening comes around… around 6pm and I get a call from them. They meet me at work and we head off to have dinner. We head off to a seafood place called the Crab Cracker.
Then they ask what it was really like to live here in Seattle. I'm thinking… be really careful here, Frank. So I tell them about my experiences here, both the good and the bad. I try to be as fair to the city as I can be, all along stressing the fact that Seattle is simply not a good fit with me and my personality. It also serves to remind me that Seattle is just a stop in this crazy ride, not the destination. Once I realized that I wouldn't have to spend the rest of my life here, it wasn't so bad. It's not a life sentence. And no, I didn't tell them that! [Although they're probably reading this right now]
As dinner continues and we talk about a number of different things, I realize how much I miss the Chinese community in South Florida. I mean, as judgmental and dysfunctional as it is, I left behind parts of me that I miss… parts of me that I wouldn't mind seeing again. I've spent a considerable amount of time running away from my Chinese heritage, maybe it is time to go full circle… something to think about.
Through dinner, it also dawns on me that Tina and I are now much different than we used to be. Now, I'll be the first one to say that this is not a bad thing; it is just that I find it curious. Maybe it's that we weren't really that alike to begin with; I mean we did similar things, but probably for different reasons. Maybe we just made different choices in life. I'm not passing judgement, if anything it makes me think about myself and some of choices I made. The bottom line is that she seems happy, if ever there was a metric for ((life, I would imagine happiness would be it. And me? I suppose I'm happy as well, in my own little demented and twisted way. [Insert evil laughter here]
Our dinner eventually comes to an end. They pick up the tab. [Terrific, now I have to fly to Boston to treat them for dinner] They drive me back to work and we part company. It was a blast seeing them again. I hope they decide to move here… I really do.
Wednesday, June 3, 1998 - Search for Sit 'N Spin - Okay, tonight is relatively uneventful. First, I go home to set the VCR to tape a show, Metropolitan Opera Presents… Billy Budd. As luck would have it, my plans for the evening to meet with my friends were cancelled. [Thanks, Pedro...]
I decide to go for a drive, which I do on occasion just to help me unwind. I'm supposed to be meeting up with some folks tomorrow night at a place called the Sit 'N Spin, which is a combination café and laundromat. No joke. So I decide to track it down to minimize the number of potential problems tomorrow. The ramp to the entrance into the interstate has some sign that says that it will be closed at some point… not that I'm really concerned, I don't make it into this part of town very often.
Thursday, June 4, 1998 - Meet your maker - You [Yes... you the reader] might occasionally wonder what it was that ever possessed me to put together the Lair. It was a few months ago, I was reading one of the public folders [think of them as digital forums] at work and Anita posts this link to a page on this forum. Just for giggles, I jumped to that site and read the article Ode to Testosterone. The writing was by Rob Hudson. His writing is smart, funny, and incredibly interesting. Read it. It's great! Seeing his site inspired me to put together mine. I have exchanged mail with Rob a couple of times.
Tonight, I would get a chance to meet him. Rob is visiting Seattle with his fiancée, Julie. A number of local journal writers are getting together and I had the privilege to attend. Now, I'm not a journal writer, far from it. All I have is this heap of jumbled, semi-coherent thoughts on my web page, which apparently you [Yes... you the reader] happen to find entertaining, but we digress. We're meeting at the Sit 'N Spin. The first ones to arrive were Anita and Julie. I sit down and put the videotape down. I had taped this for Rob, who is a big fan of Billy Budd. Julie asks if I watched it. I, squirming, reply that “I didn't get a chance to”.
Confession: Okay, the simple truth is that I don't know the first thing about opera. I taped it as friendly gesture to Rob. Not that I think there's anything wrong with opera, I suppose it's just that opera and I have never crossed paths. I spent the better part of my life in a cultural vacuum. I never had the opportunity to develop an appreciation for opera, or really any of the arts for that matter. It is a shame too, because so many folks seem to be so passionate about it. [Bowing my head in shame] To Julie and Rob, sorry for not admitting this earlier. I suppose that maybe I was a little intimidated and insecure because I'm predominantly left-brained. I did eventually watch it though.
The next ones to arrive are Rob, Julie, and Karawynn. Naturally, I'm delighted to meet Rob. I offer him the videotape; he asks if I watched it. [groan] And finally, Kim arrives. Now, I'm sitting with these folks whose lives I read about, and never met in person, which is a new experience for me. Actually, I believe that with a couple of exceptions, that was true for everyone at the table.
We all chat for a while and talk about where Rob and Julie have gone and what they should see. Karawynn seems a bit tired, so Rob decides to drive her home. [This is Rob's second day in Seattle…] Meanwhile, we are chatting with his fiancée Julie. Boy, he has been gone for a while. During his absence, we were speculating about what happened to him, and Julie imagined that his story would involve purple monkeys. Hey, could I make this up? A little over an hour later Rob shows up, apparently he got a bit misdirected.
Meeting these folks is as wonderful as I imagined, and I can't being to express what a thrill it was. After seeing so much I still consider my page to be in its infancy and it was wonderful to see them in person. We stay and continue chatting until the place closes down at midnight. Oh incidentally, the last load of laundry goes in at 10:30pm. We part company and I drive home.
As I am about to get on Interstate 5, I realize that the ramp has been closed for the night for construction. Wonderful!! I suppose that last night I should've paid closer attention to the sign that said, “Ramp Closed June 4, 10pm… ”. So I'm driving around, scrambling to find an exit that will take me home. Now, I'm not the kind of guy who is afraid to ask for directions, but anyone who is out in the city on a Thursday, past midnight is not someone I'd want to ask directions from. So I get behind someone who seems to know where they're going and follow them. About twenty minutes later, I realize that either they don't know where they're going either or they're not headed back towards the interstate or they think I'm a lunatic and want to keep a closer eye on me. I finally see something I recognize and managed to get on Interstate 5 and head home.
I've lived here for seven years and still managed to get lost. Rob, I hope that makes you feel better.
Friday, June 5, 1998 - Pancakes are not just for breakfast - I make late plans to have dinner with Len. We end up going to IHOP. I suppose what the commercials say it's true. Pancakes are not just for breakfast. Not that I adhere to all rules of convention to begin with, but this is one that I don't even think about breaking for spite.
In any case, we picked IHOP because there's a CD store, Silver Platters, next door and I need to get a CD for a party tomorrow. I also end up getting a CD for myself as well, Sapphire by Keiko Matsui. This is an album I'm not familiar with at all, but I do have Under Northern Lights, another Keiko Matsui CD. Incidentally, I particularly like the piece The Gate off that CD.
Saturday, June 6, 1998 - A thinly veiled excuse to meet with friends - My dear friend, Trudy is getting married. I'm glad; she deserves to be happy. Tonight is her bridal shower (of sorts), and I'll be attending. Actually, it is a combination bridal shower/bachelor party. As Lenox, her fiancée puts it, it is a “a thinly veiled excuse to meet with friends”. This party is at Dalia's house.
Okay, a little bit of history here…. Trudy and Dalia are good friends. Dalia's son is Lucas. Trudy is the friend of mine that introduced me to Lucas, my little brother. [no, smartass… he is not my biological little brother]. Trudy is also Aaron's older sister (remember the knife incident?); that Aaron.
So the first thing that crossed my mind is… You buy presents for a bridal shower, and you don't buy presents at a bachelor party. So… what do we do? I call Dalia and ask for details. She confirms my suspicions that we do have to get something, but we are asked to bring our favorite CD so they can build up their collection. Naturally I, being the joker that I am, figured that I should get them something that I know they already have, and better yet… collaborate with everyone to bring the same CD. Yeah, I know…, I'm such a pain. I do, however, manage to take this request seriously. I toy with the idea of getting them either a Spanish or Chinese CD, but they are a little tough to find; well, at least my favorite ones. I finally settle on getting them Whaler by Sophie B. Hawkins, which really is one of my favorite CD's.
Now, Aaron and I had talked about driving down together the day before, but never managed to work out the details. So I figured that I would call him and we could ride down. He has a pager so it shouldn't be any trouble getting a hold of him… You would think. So I page him and leave my number, and I wait. [tapping fingers… Nothing] Okay, I page him again this time, I suffix -911, which typically means, as you might imagine emergency or in other words “call me back as soon as you can.” [Wait… Nothing] At this point, I figured if I waited any longer, I would be late. I leave; Aaron will have to make do.
It's a beautiful evening, and I take the top off the Del Sol on the drive down. The trip to Olympia is relatively uneventful. No purple monkeys. As always, the drive through Tacoma (or is it Fife) is nose wrinkling experience due to the paper mill… as some people put it, the Aroma of Tacoma. About five miles from my exit in the interstate, I go flying by a police car with a radar gun (and yes, he was pointing it at me). I must've been going… oh about 75 mph, not incredibly fast, but certainly enough for a speeding ticket. As I'm passing him, I see him getting into the car and give chase. Whoops! Just in the off chance that he was trying to track me down, I duck into some cluster of cars. By the time I get off the interstate, I see no signs of him. Thank goodness.
I arrive about ten minutes late. [Thanks, Aaron] But it's okay since Trudy and Lenox had arrived just a few minutes before. Apparently, they too were waiting to meet up with Aaron, who never showed; he did call though and got directions. [I'm laughing inside… really] So we are all chatting the way people do at parties. We talk about some of the plans of the wedding, reception, etc. I'm chatting with Lucas and another one of my friends, Steve. It has been some time since we have seen each other so we start to catch up. Oh, and we have some of the food that Dalia has so painstakingly prepared… which is delicious. She is an amazing cook.
Suddenly the phone rings; it's Aaron. Ha! He is hopelessly lost. Dalia gives him directions from his current location. So eventually, he arrives… about 1 to 1½ after the party started. Do we give him grief? Well, what do you think? [Insert evil laughter here] I did wonder why he didn't answer his pages. His response was that he didn't recognize the number, which, of course, begs the question… “Then why did you give me your pager number?” Go figure!
The party continues for a couple of more hours. Lucas leaves to meet up with his friend. We continue to chat and talk about different things. I end up leaving about 10:30pm or 11pm. I forget precisely when. Again, I'm glad Trudy is getting married; I couldn't be happier for her. I think of my remaining single friends and the list is getting pretty sparse. What about me? Someday, it'll happen for me… although Miss Right may have to beat me over the head with a club. Someday I'll find my alma gemela, which is literally, twin soul, which is to say, my soul mate.
So there it is. My week and why I missed my workouts. I know that sounds like a pessimist. All in all, I don't regret any of it. It was a wonderful week. Thanks to all my dear friends and all the wonderful new people I met.
Post Mortem - Anita invites Rob and Julie to lunch on campus on Monday so they get a chance to see the company, which is an incredibly fun place to work. I also join them for lunch and drop off the videotape again. Someone else wants to see it so I hold on to it for a couple of days to dub it. I also met Jon and Wally, who didn't join us on Thursday. We have lunch at building four, which is one of our more picturesque cafeterias. We talk about what they had seen since Thursday night and how much they like the city. I hope they move here; many people find happiness here in Seattle… which, of course, baffles me.
June 21, 1998
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