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Feeling the Salt Air

I hopped right off the plane today and headed to downtown Seattle to see the sights. I was reluctant to go see the place where the people throw fish around, but a friend of mine insisted that was the place to be, so I decided I could handle being "touristy" and I went. After I saw all the markets, I just walked around downtown checking out restaurants and stores. Here are some fotografias:

Sadly, no fish went airborne while I was there.

Here's the Space Needle from First Street. This picture was taken right before someone who lives on First Street watered their window plants and dumped dirty water all over my head.

The two stadiums taxpayers just purchased the Seahawks and Mariners.

These parking meters had me completely confused. The problem wasn't parking downtown, it was figuring out how to pay to park.

Easy Street Records, where I was told I could get some good power-browsing in.

And, of course, no journey to Seattle would be complete without my quest to see the house Kurt Cobain killed himself in. Yes, I am aware of how lame this is. But I just had to do it.

The house is in an upscale lakefront neighborhood that's difficult to navigate, so I'm sure I looked like an idiot tourist driving around slowly. I'm pretty sure the neighbors have had it with morbid people like me. But I sucked it up and finally found the house, which, as you may expect, has high fences around the yard to block gawkers like me. Right next to the house, though, is a park that serves as a de facto vigil spot, where people still leave daily flowers on a bench:

For some reason, someone decided to leave a baby pacifier on the far end of the bench.

If you look closely, you can see a shout-out to Barack Obama on the back left side of the seat.

There's the top of the house. I think.

The evening wrapped up with a steak at Matt's in the Market, although the appeal of eating in a fancy restaurant is somewhat lessened when you're eating by yourself. I tried to explain to my waiter that I was in from out of town on business, but it was pretty clear he was ushering me out of there as soon as possible. I think the guy eating alone in the corner was depressing the rest of the customers.

Tonight will be comprised of getting my speech ready for tomorrow - a rockin' time, for sure. And there's a Taco Bell right next to the hotel, so the chances of a late night Grilled Stuft Burrito currently stand at 105%. I may even try to eat $10 worth of Taco Bell, a feat I still maintain is humanly impossible.