Going Home
The good thing about driving to the airport at 2am on a Sunday is the complete lack of traffic. Having woken quite early after little sleep, I felt lucky on the flight to be able to switch seats to an empty row. When there is a strong urge to sleep, it’s amazing how well a tall person can make a bed of three small and rather uncomfortable airline seats.
Landing in the Seattle-Tacoma airport I caught the shuttle to where the rental cars were, had a brief debate with the agent on how their pre-pay gas prices are a scam, collected my steel and plastic stead for the trip, and made my way out. Needing food and craving ethnicity in my diet, a rarity in Vermont, I headed towards a pho restaurant that had been recommended to me.
For this return visit I had chosen a town I used to frequent and, with a belly contentedly full of noodles, I drove on towards North Bend. The navigation on my phone chimed in periodically with advice, deciding to completely dismiss my request for the backroads and opting instead that I should add to the day’s congestion on the main highways.
Arriving in North Bend I decided on having a nice cup of coffee and a bit of checking in on emails and messages. I picked a shop that I had frequented during my time in the area. The business still existed however, it had changed ownership. Not to worry, the coffee was still delicious.
I sat outside with my coffee to take in the sunshine and the air. The peace of the mountain town became quickly broken by groups of passing motorcyclists competing on their open-air radios for song choice and volume and by one particular modified truck that seemed to be making laps of the intersection, accelerating aggressively as if to say, “look at my big shiny exhaust port! I bet you could shove your whole fist in there!” I rather wanted to see how far up a grapefruit might fit.
Finishing my coffee, I still had more time to wait before check-in so, I made my way over to another favourite haunt of mine: Volition Brewing. I sampled a selection of brews with one of their flights and gathered some more sun (another rarity in Vermont) in their beer garden.
When it was close to check-in time, I made my way to the grocery store for some provisions. I had gathered almost everything but was searching for something I was quite looking forward to: Rainier cherries. Eventually a kind shopper noticed my befuddlement by stating, “you look befuddled” as I wandered about the fruit and vegetables with what must have been the same pleading look on my face as a little boy unable to find the candy aisle. Being pointed in the right direction, cherries now in my possession, I pointed the trusty rental car towards my temporary home.
I settled in with a bit of TV and ended this first day without too much fanfare, trying to keep awake until a reasonable bedtime in the hopes of adjusting to the new time zone. I think I made it to 8:30.
I awoke the next morning about 6am, which was my hope from the night before. After discovering that the only coffee offerings in the house was Folgers, I brewed a small pot and sat down to read some news. The morning prep continued with an attempt to shower in a stall so narrow containing a showerhead so greatly stunted in height I could only assume the space had been made for children, made a bit of breakfast, and, feeling confident that I was clean from the chest down, made my way out the door.
Travel to the jobsite was uneventful as was the job itself; a surprise given the string of emails leading up to the install. Soon enough my work for the day came to an end and I journeyed back to North Bend intending to revisit other memorable places before dinner with some friends.
Dinner consisted of pasta, conversation, a cocktail, and relaxation. We caught up, planned potential future endeavours, and eventually parted ways to our respective homes. With a bit of jet lag hanging on, I wound down with some TV, cherries, and another Northwest favourite of mine: a cold can of Rainier beer.
The next morning, I picked up a coffee at another local shop I knew of. My hair, being very much out of sorts with the lower part of my body as getting my head under the showerhead required calisthenic squats of a nature to impress circus strongmen, I’m sure was the town’s talk of the day. A quick drive back to the jobsite to review some programming changes and get the approval from a representative of the client. Receiving that, my part of the project was now done and, still being surprised to the efficiency of the work, made my way once again back to the rental home to change into more casual clothes and head downtown for some lunch.
I was planning to meet another friend this evening so ate light and enjoyed the nice weather. Popping into a couple of shops and small eateries for snacks, I satisfied my want of reliving the town I had loved during my time in Seattle. As the hour turned towards the workday’s end, I made my way back to the rental car to venture a couple towns over to meet my friend.
Arriving early, I explored the library, a tap house I remembered, the park in the center of town, and window shopped. While in the park I watched a young couple play catch with a frisbee; their running and trick catches bringing back memories of early college days. When my phone lit up with the message my friend was done with work and on her way, I made my way towards the Mexican restaurant we agreed on to snag a table. Soon enough she joined me and we spent the next few hours catching up.
With evening approaching we hugged and parted ways, vowing to keep in touch.
The following morning’s prep added the extra task of packing up and checking out. I hadn’t spent much time in the rental, so the job didn’t take too much time. However, I did want to be out somewhat early as I had one last need to fulfill before leaving town.
You see, North Bend had been the key filming location for the cult TV show Twin Peaks and the Double R restaurant, where the lead character often ate, lies near the center of downtown. I had to have a darn good cup of coffee with today’s breakfast!
As I slid into the red vinyl booth the server asked about drinks. “Coffee and water, please,” I replied. The mug of dark liquid arrived soon after and I took the first sip.
Now, if your expectations are those of the exquisite coffees available a few miles to the west in the heart of Seattle, you will be gravely disappointed in the coffee loved by the show’s protagonist. However, if you take in that you are sitting in what may be the most famous (arguably to select pop-culture nerds) diner, the coffee is exactly what you’d expect: black, thick, and acidic enough for light home refinishing projects.
Turning my attention to the menu, I eventually landed upon a dish called the “country scramble” that seemed to offer a sautéed cacophony of whatever might be in arm’s reach of the chef. Listing various peppers, onions, meat from multiple residents and generations of farm animals, potatoes, and eggs. This was the breakfast for me!
Being close to Seattle and reading the long list of ingredients, I figured the $22 price tag was reflective of these influences. I ordered the dish and asked for the gravy on the side (oh, did I mention the gravy?). The server didn’t bat an eye signaling to me that this was a common order for a solo diner and that all things were normal.
What was eventually presented to me was not a breakfast for a hungry traveler but a platter of mixed ingredients more suited to a family of starved sumo wrestlers. Seeing it placed before me caused an involuntary laugh followed quickly by the realization that there are Americans out there that would consider this mound of food to be a light snack before the real breakfast was to be served.
I can be a big eater, and breakfast is by far one of my favourite meals. However, there was no chance I was making it through this dish. When next checked on I preemptively asked for a to-go container for what I knew would be donated to the friend I was seeing today.
I ate until I knew that any more was not a good idea. Scooping the other half of the plate into the vessel the server appropriately referred to as “the to-go bucket”, and pushed the now empty plate away.
“Anything else?”
I had fully intended to also indulge in a piece of cherry pie, completing the Double R experience but, nothing more was to fit in my already distended belly for some time. I politely declined the offer for more food, chose instead a small, non-edible magnet for the home fridge, and parted ways with the iconic location.
The extra day of this trip had been tacked on to spend as much time as I could catching up with one particular friend whose company I really enjoyed. We walked through parks, waterfronts, the marina, and just talked. Most of the talk was catching up on details since my move across the country with quite a bit of sarcastic humour thrown in. Near the end of the day, when we had made our way to the park surrounding the Space Needle, we checked in with his girlfriend with whom we were hoping would be able to meet us for dinner. She was nearing the end of her day so we made our way over to a local bar that has been a long-time hangout for theatre folk to grab a cocktail and wait. With her eventual release and joining us at the bar, we collectively made our way to a local Thai restaurant we had chosen. The evening wore on through conversation and laughter and, soon enough, it was time for me to make my way south to the airport. I dropped them off at home, said my goodbyes once again, and joined the southbound traffic of I-5.
The airline on the return flight exercised their rights from the savings I had with their cheap ticket to move me from the aisle seat in the middle of the plane to the middle seat at the very rear. So, sleep deprived, I arrived in Boston, gathered my luggage, and followed the signs for the bus that would take me to the remote lot where my car was parked. Walking the entire interior length of the departures level, I was finally directed outside, then directed back the entire exterior length of the departures level to then wait just outside the large, and very much in operation, double doors of where I had started. Arriving to the parking lot on the bus, dropping my belongings in the rear of the car, and climbing in the driver’s seat, grateful to be in comfort again, I pointed the grill in the direction of home.
I had plenty of time during this trip, and definitely on the drive home, to think. I truly love the Pacific Northwest, the mountains and forests are what I most desired while moving about the country. The terrain and layers of life inspire me. My woodland photography skills grew exponentially while in this area. Vermont, however, has something the densely populated area of Seattle lacks: a strong sense of community.
The Seattle I fell in love with was amazing. There was such a mix of opportunities, excitement, all with an underlying layer of coolness. I can think of no other city in the US where in 45 minutes of travel you can be in the ocean’s water or lush, forested mountains. But the Seattle I knew does not exist anymore, it has been forever changed by exploding “progress”. My heart will always be in those mountains, swimming in the alpine lakes, the moss-covered rainforests of Olympic National Park, and the ever-present being of Mt. Rainier. But, for now, home is a small town in New England where every day I venture out I run into friends.
