Last Sunday I took the family to Seattle for the day, on the recommendation of one of my daughters. Both Michael’s Mommy and I used to live in that area during previous phases of our lives, before we’d met.
So Sunday morning at just before 9 AM, we were out the door. Michael kept asking us all: “Where’s Attle?” and “Are we going to see Attle?”
We had lunch on the east side, at a little mall I used to take the girls on a fairly regular basis. They had a multi-cultural food court which I loved, and a little 25 cent carousel ride the girls loved. Later we visited the hospital where sister S was born, and after that we visited the hospital where sisters B and L were born. Then we had ice cream at a little local dairy, one with a big plastic cow out in front. They always had the best ice cream.
Michael asked again: “Can I see Attle? Can I talk to Attle?”
Sister B: “Yes! We’re going to visit with Attle and talk with him.”
After our tour of the east side and a side venture to see the hospital where my wife used to work (and coincidentally where my daughter L was taken twice in her infancy), we headed to the city.
I had this grand idea of our happy little family visiting the site of the famous 1962 world’s fair, from the grounds and buildings themselves to the space needle. I’ve long been a fan of that particular fair and everything it implied, and was always happy to know that so much of it still remained to the present. I’d found a promotional video from the fair online and forced the family to watch it several times, so I was all set to relive the magic.
Well, I did get to relive my favorite part of the trip to the city: crossing four lanes of freeway traffic like a maniac just to get from the 520 onramp to the Mercer street exit. Almost immediately upon exiting the freeway, we became bogged down in a traffic jam. Ah, now I remember why I didn’t miss this place so much.
The jam stretched all the way to Seattle Center. When we got close, it became apparent why: there was an “event” taking place there that day. Dang. I forgot to check the Seattle Center website for events. Events mean crowds.
This particular event was the North West Folklife Festival.
Oh, joy. From the street I could see the crowds: there was more tie-dye, macramé and protest signage concentrated in one spot than I ever wanted to see in my life time.
I aimed for the World’s Fair and I got Woodstock instead.
Crowds notwithstanding, we worked our way to a parking lot. There were a lot, and they all charged amounts comparable to important body parts. Hmmm, let’s see… Not this one, it’s out in the open. Not that one, it’s all full. What about that valet spot that we passed? Okay, one more circuit then. Hmm, a parking garage… nah, the valet parking was cheaper. I tried to be entertaining to my children, and point out principle sights along the way. “Look, girls! A power substation!” I said, pointing out the windows to my left.
We got to the valet parking, and the attendant brightly told us that it was for restaurant reservations only. Okay. I can deal with a little stress.
Back we go. Hmm… there’s a lot, but I missed it. Say, wasn’t there a lot that said Seattle Center parking back when we came in?
Sure, one more circuit. I’m sure my ears were turning red.
Michael: “Where’s Attle? Can we see Attle yet?”
Daddy, seeing the statue of chief Sealth: “There he is. Right over there. With his hand raised. See him?”
Michael: “That’s Attle?”
Daddy: “Sure. We’ll go with that.”
Hey! There’s that parking garage! I could just – no, we’re on a mission here.
I’m sure the lot is down this street.
Nope, it was actually that one that veers off in the other direction. Down the one-way. My stress level was reaching the boiling point.
Okay, once around again. “Look, girls! It’s a power substation!”
There’s the street. There’s the lot. Yup. Where’s the entrance? Oh, it’s back on that other street? Okay… once around again.
“Look girls! It’s a power substation!”
My fingers gripped the steering wheel. Michael’s Mommy spoke soothing words to me.
“Try not to stress too much. You should just do what you know to do, instead of trying to stick to a course that you’re not sure about.” She is so very wise.
I headed directly for that parking garage.
Finally parked, everyone out and off to the elevator. Let’s see, we’re on floor two, next to a door that leads to the street. Which floor do we enter the science building on? I don’t know. Let’s try the top floor. Nope… top floor only has more parking. What about that door that led to the street on the floor we parked at? Let’s go down. Yep, that was the one.
Once we actually got into the science center and got to touch exhibits, the kids had a great time. There were things to pull and things to push, levers to operate and gadgets to work, bubbles and mirrors and sounds and lasers and all sorts of stuff. There were big water-driven items outside, one of them a human-powered water wheel that took all three sisters and Michael to turn it. I made a mental note to start construction on one of those for use at home. I could harness his energy to power the TV or something.
Unfortunately we only had an hour and fifteen minutes to work with, since we’d arrived so late. So we spent our final minutes going through the butterfly room. Because of a particular episode of SpongeBob, Michael is convinced that butterflies are monsters. He spent most of the time we were in there dodging the delicate, lacy little creatures as they flew within his airspace, or scaling me like a mountain climber if any were perched on the path ahead.
After the science center closed, we went to the space needle to see the view from up top. 64 bucks later we were standing in a line to wait another half hour just to get on an elevator. Again I say, huzzah for crowds! On the elevator ride up, I kept singing to myself the last song that appears in the Century 21 video I linked to earlier. Michael’s Mommy heard me and laughed; she knew exactly what I was doing.
I had maintained this vague idea that we’d be heading back home around 6:00 PM to be home around nine. Well, it was already 6:45 when we finally made it up to the top of the space needle, and we hadn’t eaten dinner yet. Fortunately they had a little shop there where we could buy a snack to keep Michael from going insane.
The view was beautiful. The sky was clear, the water was blue, the wind was very light, and Michael was utterly fascinated with seeing all the buildings, cars and people so far down.
Finally heading out, we blasted out of the city and down I5 to find a restaurant to have dinner. Not having a concrete plan, which is my usual modus operandi, I took a random exit, just “knowing” that a good restaurant would be nearby. We’d find something akin to Denny’s, slightly better quality, but decent prices.
Instead we found a steak and ale house with prices that made me wonder whether we were going to be fed barrels of crude oil. Michael ordered the chicken strips off of the kids menu. The heaping feast that arrived in response could have fed an emerging third-world country. And that didn’t include the coleslaw.
Tired, stuffed and financially tapped, we headed south toward home, and finally rolled into the driveway three hours later.
I have this dream in which I plan a family outing and things go really well: we have everything we need, parking is easy, prices are reasonable, and I can deal with the complaints and difficulties that do arise with ease and patience.
I really want to do things that way.
But instead, things veer off course so quickly. Time gets away from me like jet-propelled weasels. Unforeseen circumstances loom up, like crowds and traffic and the fact that the city fathers never planned on actual automobiles using the roads and then needing to be stored someplace while the automobile’s actual occupants are busy utilizing the facilities they’d so carefully planned for the roads to reach. And money – the vast amounts of cash that gets siphoned out of my wallet – I never can estimate the costs correctly.
I want to do well… other dads do…
My wife assures me that our trip went really well, and that we were successful in doing all the stuff we’d intended to do. I guess looking at it objectively we did do okay. And though we got home no earlier than 12:30 AM, we did arrive home safely. The kids said they had a good time. They even want to go back, so we can see the aquarium and Pike Place market, and assorted other things.
Michael never actually did get to talk to Attle… but if he’s disappointed with me about that, he hasn’t mentioned it.
