8/9/13, Day Five (written on 8/12/13)

  Day five wasn't particularly pleasant. My first appt in Old Town Bellingham went well. The owner of the shop, E, was aware of my busy day, and didn't mess around. She got right into the glass buttons, and then jumped into the brass, two crates that I'm quickly learning to be the speedy money makers. Chit chat with E was relaxed and easy. I'm getting a collection of stories to tell, and questions to ask that always do the trick. It's all reminding me that I can be quite charming, and friendly when I want to.

  After I wrapped up at E's shop, I called K to see about our meeting down the street in a parking lot. K was walking there as she answered, and declined my offer to pick her up, as her pedometer had not reached the mile she wished to walk that morning. I took the 15 minutes she told me it would take to stop by the Vietnamese sandwich place I'd spotted down the street.

  Jimmy's sandwich/bar/beauty shop had dozens of paper butterflies hung from the high ceilings, all at various heights, and Jimmy himself was a sight as well: a classic queen, with shaped eyebrows, expertly manicured facial hair, and a bejeweled cross resting on his amply revealed peeks. He breezed in and out while TJ, a nice Vietnamese younger man warmed up my pre-made sandwich, and got really into telling me all about how he works with E-commerce. I was still in salesman mode, so just nodded and smiled at everything he said, pretending to be greatly interested, so to the point that he seemed to think I'd love to be involved in whatever it was he was talking about (I only understood half of what he said, due to his accent, my hunger, and just not really caring). But I ended up giving him my number, so we could discuss business ventures at a later date. And no, it wasn't a pick up line; TJ mentioned his wife a few times.

  I cruised down the street with my sandwich I wouldn't have time to eat, and soda that I was cursing myself for ordering, into a little parking lot/park right at the water's edge. Before long, K, an older woman with some kind of pale blue growth on her lip showed up, and asked me to move the van three times, to find a better spot for looking at the beads in proper sunlight. I found it funny that 20 minutes ago I'd been selling beads at the counter of a nice shop, and now I was sitting on the sidewalk bagging up more beads while K ooed and awed over shades of turquoise. It's silly, but at the same time it's nice to be around people who are so excited by something. K would find a hank of beads and exclaim, over and over, "This! This is the color I want! Oh my gosh, that's the one!"

  After K had spent a coupled hundred, I hopped in the van, gassed up, scarfed the sandwich (not great, but I love anything with daikon carrots) and opted to not try to make the appt I'd have to catch a ferry and maybe not get the appt anyway, in lieu of a different appt that I'd have to catch a ferry for and not get the appt. I had three hours to make it to the appt, which was really cutting it, but the traffic to the Puget Sound ferry was light, and a pretty drive. There was a naval air base along the way, where jet fighters were flying what looked dangerously low over the freeway while the tourists all took pictures.

  I got to the ferry, paid the fee, and sat for a while in the queue to get on. About 40 motorcycles poured off the ferry that had just come in. I was herded on the next boat, and had just enough time to piss, and stand on the deck for a few minutes before we pulled up to shore. I found a spot to park once off the boat, and discovered that I'd gotten on the entirely wrong ferry. I was on the wrong part of the mainland, and according to the iPhone map, my drive time was still an hour and half, with only 30 mins before the appt. I called the client, explained, and though I tried to set up for later, or the next day, but it was a wash. Fuck it, I thought, I'm driving home.

  I was just a bit north of Seattle, which is about three hours away from Portland…at least, when it's not Friday, on the I-5. Holy…fucking…shit. The traffic was endless. I won't go into it too much, but by the time I pulled off at a rest stop to piss, and scarf down some Chex mix, it had taken me FOUR HOURS to drive 100 miles. Fuck Seattle.

  The rest of the drive was fine, a wild fire that had been going for a few days making for some lovely clouds. As I pulled back into Portland, the last rays of the sun bouncing off Big Pink (one of the larger buildings downtown, with pink tinted glass) I started to get the concept of how long I would be gone for the next leg of the tour. I hadn't even been gone a week, and it felt good to be coming home. How is it going to feel after 16 fucking weeks?

  The past few days have been spent joyfully doing nothing. I spent one night making a fancy dinner with Janine, and the next watching Dirty Dancing and Face/Off, again with Janine, in her bed. Today, I'm trying to get back to tying up the loose ends before I set out on the 20th for eastern WA, MT, and ID. This mini tour was fine, but there's still that little voice in my head that keeps echoing the thought, "What have I gotten myself into?"

  I thought this blog might be more interesting with some photos. So far, I think I'm wrong, but that's mostly because I'm still not used to having a phone with a halfway decent camera in it. Give me a few weeks, and I'll be posting pics of every meal I eat, every funny sign, every shitty hotel room...and it still probably won't be a very interesting blog. I try!

  

Welcome to my office, would you like to buy some beads?

It may have been then wrong ferry, but it was still a ferry ride.

Lousy picture of it, but here is ALL THE TRAFFIC.

Look! Something that doesn't look half as cool as it did to my naked eye. Thank goodness I took a picture of it while doing 70 mph!

See above comment.

And again...my city looked so much cooler than this. But it's home.