OLD FRIENDS

Sometimes new adventures lead to old friends…

It’s 11:58PM on Friday and I’m sitting here writing in our Airbnb in Seattle. I’m tired and exhilarated and maybe a bit emotionally raw.  It’s silly, really. But maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s the most important takeaway from this entire vacation. Maybe I’ll never actually know if it’s one or the other. Either way, it’s late, and typos will inevitably populate this post like grammatical pimples that won’t go away no matter how hard you dig and squeeze…because I ain’t going back to edit this. Tomorrow we head to Canada, so you’re gonna just  have to live with however this post lands — which actually is me telling myself that I’M gonna have to live with however this post lands — because right now I’m fueled entirely on watered down brain juice and Czech Style Pilsener Beer…

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Up until adulthood I didn’t travel much. The first time I traveled to another major city was when I was in high school, sitting next to Tiffany in an Alhambra School District Van, listening to the mixtape she made me on a walkman at the same time using an earphone chord splitter on a debate school trip to Cal Berkeley. The first time I went over the Golden Gate Bridge I was sitting next to her, gawking like a god damned rube. She commented to me later that she was a bit caught off guard by how beguiled I was at the moment…but what can I say? The Golden Gate Bridge is rad.

But until that point I had been more or less tethered in San Gabriel since birth. Just me and my Gram in an old tired house. I didn’t do much of anything that qualified as serious travel. I have many childhood memories that are poisoned with jealousy, of watching family or friends fly off to fantastical places…of greeting family or friends returning with stories of adventure from said fantastical places. Gram. Mom. My Aunts and Uncle. Neighbors. Friends. London, Ireland, Hawaii, Scotland, Russia, Idaho, Texas, Africa, Montana. As a little boy I remember laying in bed at night, my old, worn out, stuffed Sesame Street pal Grover gripped tight in my arms, just aching with resolve that I would grow up and actually do things on my own…because then nobody and nothing could stop me…

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Two days ago we left the semi-comfort of our “Bearfoot and Buck-Wild” cabin in Yosemite, California (I later learned of the actually Punny spelling) to head to Prospect, Oregon — with a stop-over at the California State Capitol along the way in Sacramento. The Sacramento State Capitol to me has been the finest capitol building I’ve ever visited.  Truth be told, I’ve completely enjoyed every single capitol building we’ve visited, and I’d actually truly love to visit every single one in our curious Republic — but I doubt any can come close to California’s — which openly celebrates every facet of the state’s diversity, from the hard scrabble farmlands to the cutting edge tech quadrants to our magnificent cities. The building itself is a testament to its people, its grandness, and the weird — and to me that’s what makes California the best state in the country.

From there we traveled into wonderful Oregon.That night we got into the sleepy town of Prospect, and while our motel room was pretty decent, Joyce and George’s seemed to be representative of one of the rings of hell: Broken AC, yellow pillows, bugs.

We were glad to leave the next morning and hit

CRATER LAKE!

But it was cold there. Still had snow! So after that we set off to the Oregon State Capitol — which was beautiful as well. Very nice…very nice… but we had a destination in mind…and that was

PORTLAND

We pushed forth into Portland for a quick bite to eat, and I swear it wasn’t such a buzzing epicenter of downtown activity the last time we passed through when Charlie was three…

After the meal I discovered that there was a Stumptown coffee shop seven minutes away from where we were. I convinced the other nine members of my party to take a stroll with me so that I may enjoy the best decaf ever created by man. About halfway through our stroll, my stomach started to plunge. Do you know what I’m talking about? You must. It’s happened to everyone at least once or twice, or three times…maybe four times…okay five times in their lives. Be honest. It’s a very specific type of stomach sensation. When your stomach goes BEEERROIRROIIROIIRG! It’s a physical manifestation of the NASA countdown clock. T-MINUS SEVEN MINUTES…but it wasn’t a Saturn V that was going to blast off in Portland…but my god damned butthole.

I was about to poop my pants.

By the time I get to Stumptown I’m sweating, I’m looking like death. Every fiber of my being is clenched. “No problem,” I think. “I’ll just pop into the ‘Ole Stumptown facility and triage this intestinal emergency. I grab the Stumptown door. It doesn’t give. Yankyankyank. It doesn’t open. My eyes scramble across the stated hours:

They are closed for the day.

Up until this point the group wasn’t aware of my dire situation. I had kept it to myself, shy debutante that I am. They see me fight the locked door and they just go “Awww, closed.” But my eyes meet my cousin Eric’s. We instantly connect in a telepathic way. A communication that calls deep to the days of our primordial beginnings, to the baser instincts. He instantly knows. Like a war vet who’s appraising someone fresh from a horrible firefight. I tell Eric, “Yeah, I gotta find a place.” But he already knows. All he does is nod. Eric spots a hotel across the street. “There,” he commands. I lead the entire troupe across the street. I walk into the hotel. Sweet relief is but a tightened hop, skip, and a shuffle away… Eric goes inside the hotel with me as my diarrhea escort while Tiffany, Joyce, George, Cayden, Tyler, Piper, Chase, and Charlie all wait outside for me…like family members in delivery waiting room…

And wouldn’t you know it? The lobby restroom is locked. It required a hotel swipe keycard. And I’m not staying there, soooo…

By this point I’m thinking…Touché, Portland. Touché.

By now I’m pale. My lips are ashen. Eric hurriedly escorts me out. Everyone appraises my grave face. Even the kids know that something serious is happening. I hurry to another restaurant, but upon opening the door I discover it’s small, there’s a sign that says “Please wait to be seated.” I can’t get myself to present them with the obvious situation that I don’t want to eat at their establishment, I just need to shit all over their facilities…

“NOT GONNA WORK!” I grunt to everyone as I come out of the restaurant.

By now I’m pacing back and forth. Well, not actually, because that would result in a poosplosion, but I’m pacing back and forth in my head. Maybe my eyes were also sinking back into their eye sockets a little bit, too.

Tiffany calls out “What about Powells?!”

“NO DON’T BE RIDICULOUS THAT’S TWO BLOCKS AWAY!” I viciously snap back. At that point I couldn’t fathom walking even ten feet, let alone two blocks. But so many stores were closed…locked door, locked door, locked door…but there was one thing that wasn’t going to remain locked for much longer if I didn’t make a snap executive decision…

“OKAY! POWELLS! LET’S GO!” So I led the charge…I gingerly ambled along the street, thighs flush, everyone else in tow, trying to keep up, like some disturbing parade, the two blocks to Powells…by this time even Piper knew that Uncle was having a crisis…

Once we get into Powells I gave a look to the book clerk that he must unfortunately see dozens of times a day:

Pure deadpan: “Up the stairs to your right.” My cousin Eric escorted me, as if he were the Secret Service and I were a President shot in the gut — Just in case something suddenly went sideways. Never leave a man down…

But here’s the thing about the world’s biggest bookstore…there’s a lot of ground to cover.

And frankly, I don’t know how I did it. It’s all a blur.

The point is I guess…I didn’t have Stumptown.

SEATTLE!

It was a grind of a day…but we did it. By the time we got to our Airbnb I was in an absolute daze. But I love driving. And the kids were amazing. The entire eight hour drive I don’t think they ever ran out of things to talk about. It made me very happy to make such an effort for the road trip.

The next day the family did all of the touristy things you’d expect to do in Seattle…Space Needle. Pike Place. Ivars. A Duck Tour… and we had a cheesy good time.    

Then in the evening we went over to the house of Tiffany’s cousin, Mimi, to visit with her, and her husband Geoff and their GERBER BABY MODEL LOOKIN’ child, Leland.

I mean, really…that child is ridiculously cute. It was nice to visit with Mimi and Geoff in the trappings of their own town because we normally only see them in LA…and it gave us a good chance to see what normal life is like in Seattle. The takeaway? Nice.

But seeing Mimi as a a grown woman with her own family really hit home for me. I was there at the airport to greet her when she first came to America as a little girl from Taiwan. She cried on the car ride away from the airport, probably exhausted, instantly missing home. And now, she is everything to a new little person….

The next day Tiffany, Charlie and I broke away to tour the University of Washington — Charlie is gearing up to apply to colleges. I came away more than impressed. It’s beautiful. I think Charlie feels very much the same.

Then we met with someone who goes WAY back for us, a former classmate from SGHS, Jong Lee. He and his son Eric met us for a wonderful lunch and we caught up. Jong was my first debate team role model. (Don’t tell him that.) One time we competed against each other, of sorts, and he utterly destroyed me. It wasn’t hard. But now we are parents and our children are the focus of our minds…it’s funny how that happens.  I think it pained Jong to hear that we were sticking with the more tourist trappy places on this visit. Like, it might have genuinely physically pained him. But that’s okay. I’ll just have to help assuage that pain by coming back and following more of his recommendations at a future date and time. I’ve been jealous of Jong throughout his life a couple of times. Once when we met up with him and his family in Boston…I MEAN HE LIVED IN BOSTON HOW AWESOME IS THAT?! And now when he lives in Seattle…I MEAN HE LIVES IN SEATTLE HOW AWESOME IS THAT?! Simply put, Jong seems to know where to live.

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Ever since we got into Seattle Charlie had been agitating to visit the MOPOP museum near the Space Needle, and now was our chance. There were special exhibits on horror genre and the fantasy genre, and of course, Star Trek. But the special exhibit there was on THE MUPPETS. It was a fascinating look at Jim Henson and the origin of his most brilliant inspirations. We felt the felt, looked at Henson’s old notes, and, of course, saw some of the original Muppets.

It was Charlie’s eyes that lit up first. She turned to me as we moved to a new portion of the exhibit.

“Grover!”

I’m going to confess to you right now, as I was walking to the glass box that held the Grover Muppet, I got choked up. I thought of my own stuffed Grover of my childhood. Once brand-new sitting on top of the TV along with my Easter basket to nothing but a love-worn mound of blue cloth with faded eyes by the time I left home at sixteen. Emotional flashes in my brain. A mental montage assaulting me as I got closer. All of the times that Grover felt like my only anchor on this chaotic planet…Clutching him tightly in the divorce courtroom when I had to testify who I wanted to “live with.” Grasping for him when I got stuck between the top bunk of my bunkbed and the wall, screaming for Gram to help free me. Assuring him with seven year-old whispers that it was going to be okay as my mom raged around the house with her pill addiction. Pressing his pink nose against my face through countless high-fevers and tours of drowning asthma…my number one play pal in a big old house that was more empty than not, save one little boy and his dedicated grandmother…

It was like seeing an old friend from a lifetime ago.

I walked up to that glass box. We took a picture, and I stumbled off. And it wasn’t until later that it hit me that I had forgotten to look at Grover’s back! Where did the Muppeteer’s hand go? What did that part of Grover look like? I’ve never known!

But then I realized. It doesn’t matter. Because to me Grover was so very much more. Here I am as a sweaty mess trying not to lose my emotional mind with my wife and daughter.

 

And Seattle gave me this moment. I am grateful.