The Northwest, Day 2: City Life

Abruptly evicted, we got up early to repack and relocate. AirBnB we hardly knew ye. I hiked from Capitol Hill to DTS to exhume the car, then loaded it in a red zone with extreme prejudice.

But morale only improved from there. The La Quinta had on-site, gated parking for the same plasma I would have drained at the DTS lot, and you could have pissed on it from the Space Needle. Also free coffee and cookies which I took unfair advantage of.

We unpacked and followed the Needle to new lands.

Lands of boat-sized lilies on flowing streams drunk by primordial beats, mundane objects made over-sized by magic, and labyrinths of concentric lines of unknown power. A Super Mario world in more ways than I realized, until the next day.

We joined a circle of sitters contemplating an enormous basin. The half-dome meteorite in the center ejected jets of water in what was either a performance, a ritual invocation, or self-defense of the kids climbing around it.

Distracted by Barinade flashbacks, I dropped my water bottle and we watched it roll the whole way down.

The rest of the day was a lot of on-foot exploring. There was a bougie indoor mall and a variety of parks and museums all in the shadow of the Needle, and plenty of time to get tired and start thinking about dinner.

Flash forward to the Yard House a few miles from the hotel, and a lot of fried cheese and buffalo cauliflower (come at me).

From there we walked the few miles back, and I'll never get over how clean and well lit and nonthreatening this massive city is. We passed many wonders, and had a deep conversation with a friendly vagabond, a chef who came to Seattle from New York for some reason. Wife gave him a beautiful flower she had picked earlier in the day, and probably some money.

Ever since landing, I'd been scanning for local music events and staple Seattle venues. Because I can't place it any other night, I'm going to assume this was the night we wandered to Kremwerk.

I'd call Kremwerk & Timber Room Complex the catch one of Seattle. Multiple floors and rooms with different events each night, and on slow nights nothing to stop people from moseying from one to another. I was looking for a joint called Berghain Techno 001, or something, and the bouncer waved us to a spacious room skewered by concrete columns and surrounded by lounge spaces and a well-stocked bar.

It was here that I learned Seattle bars generally provide jugs of free water and cups. I was flabberghasted. Also, I realized nearly everyone was in drag. It took about 30 minutes before I conceded that the sugary pop house that was playing was probably not a SOPHIE-esque vanguard leading to industrial techno. The Emerald City is a land of illusion.

In fact it was the album release of a prominent northwestern trans hip hop star. There were short sets by a few local rappers in addition to the star, some true feelings about journeys, and I think a birthday party. The crowd dug it like crazy.

I still had an itch, though, and explored a few hallways and eventually found what must have been the techno. It was in an upper up-stairs room with a walk-in-closet-sized dance floor, no bartender, no bass, and no audience. I vibed for a bit anyway and reflected on stoicism.

Back in the big room, things got heavy when the post party DJ opened with that new Lizzo. We jammed, grew old, and retreated back to the La Quinta somehow.