I must love me some cold weather. I'm in Seattle, visiting the Pacific Northwest's finest, Gemma and Michael. They booked our resident one man Geek Squad, Ameer, to come visit and fix their hard drive. I decided to tag along to be his assistant. Meaning I stand over his shoulder and ask stupid questions while he tries to explain and fiddle at the same time. Ameer's a mechanical engineer by training but it wouldn't shock anyone to call him an computer expert. It takes a particular mental makeup to dedicate a few hours not only to learning how to do something, but to doing it right. And efficiently. That's how Ameer's engineer brain thinks. Efficiency, efficiency, efficiency. Check out his computer rescue station. Little holders for the tiny screws, all ordered and easily accessible, a cloth mat to prevent static, and a cup of joe for energy."If there was a problem yo Ameer'll solve it."
A few things I've learned from him this weekend: When putting a frozen pizza in the oven, the trick is to make sure the edges line up even on the grates, thus preventing drooping on the sides. When putting on a coffee lid, make sure the mouth opening is opposite the cup seam to prevent drippage. Most things Ameer does is accomplished with this sort of precision. The best way is the only way. If I'd trust anyone to successfully pull off the champagne popping with a sword trick, it's Ameer. The irony here is that Ameer is also one of the fumblier people I know. He's constantly snapping and dropping things with his thick worker hands. But he always fixes it right back up.
So Seattle is like San Francisco-lite. There's the same feeling of little neighborhoods and streets filled with non-generic shops and eateries spread out and separated by random industrial areas. There's a whole bunch of bookstores, coffee shops (of course), and a lot of record stores, which seem anachronistic in this MP3 age. I used to cruise record stores all the time and leave with at least one CD but now I'm just walking around looking at unfamiliar cover art to albums I already own. The only thing I bought was Reservoir Dogs: Special Edition and season one of Dawson's Creek. I can't imagine how independent music stores are staying open nowadays but more power to them.
Gemma and Michael are captains of fun and I decided awhile ago that anything Gemma assures me is fun, is fun. I don't raise an eyebrow in suspicion, roll my eyes, or hesitate to say "yes" when she tells me we should do something. Still, even armed with an open mind and no expectations, I wasn't entirely prepared for our Saturday excursion. Michael and Ameer are alcohol connoisseurs so drinking begins early for them. Like eleven in the morning early, before I'm even awake. They're the crew that started the short-lived Neighborhood Excursions, dedicated to exploring a particular street in SF every month or so. We took that spirit of exploration and upped it a few notches. As Michael lists out, we hit up eleven spots in eleven hours. It was eclectic to say the least.
I mean, we ended the night walking by the famous fish market, down a mysterious little alley, and into and downstairs to a bar/club that was momentarily spinning retro hip hop. I posted up against the wall because I couldn't imagine that actually dancing would be more amusing than watching the drunk (white) crowd bop around. This was the most normal experience of the night.
Prior to that, we had started at an abandoned pool hall bar (where the jukebox stole our money, denying my attempts to replace country music with Missy), lounged through a trendy bar, and then went to a dive/hipster bar in search of shuffle board. We didn't actually end up playing any but I did cut my hands cracking peanuts. My mitts are delicate, it's true. The fantastic part was finding pork and chicken tamales to rival any in San Diego. Who knew a magic door at 9 l.b. Hammer would reveal delicious Mexican food? That's the kind of little thing you wouldn't know unless you were out and about, exploring!
The most surreal experience of the night was walking into a sports bar on the edge of the city, going through the back door Swingers style, only to be faced with a roomful of middle aged Filpinos. After two days of commenting on how lily white Seattle seemed, here we were, staring at a packed house of Titas and Titos. I was sure there was a Pacquiao fight going on, even if logically he just fought a few weeks ago.
Luckily, Gemma and Michael gave us some PI cred and I felt safe. We plopped ourselves down in the middle of the room and proceeded to talk loudly about why all these people were here. Well, Brian (Michael's best friend) and Ameer talked loudly. I mainly tried to cover my face and ignore the random Spanish they were spitting out. I embarrass easily. Fifteen minutes in, we figured out the reason for Asia central. It was karaoke night, tagalog style.
I came to Seattle to hang out with some of my favorite Filipinos, and boy did we find them.
