Cheap Cress in Seattle

I do try to keep abreast of the cost of salad ingredients. Fluctuations in the price of iceberg lettuce, mayonnaise and watercress are vitally to both my personal budget and the national economy.

Imagine my delight, then, when I discovered that a greengrocers’ store in Seattle was charging a mere $1.50 for a basket of fresh cress. A highly reasonable price for this vital ingredient of salads and sandwiches, and gourmet garnish

Actually, don’t. It’s all a big lie to justify another corny blog title. I had more pressing concerns in Grungeville, WA. Like my dental treatment for starters.

I’d driven up at breakneck speed from San Francisco to make a June 3 appointment at a dentist outside Seattle. I was stressed about the vist and my ability to pay the bill. It was a specialist treatment that would stretch my budget to breaking point. My financial worries were not been eased by the fact that that Bank of America saw fit to charge me $105 in fees for going five dollars overdrawn for less than a day.

During the rushed journey up the coast, my level of stress increased. Driving stopped being enjoyable, and I quit paying attention to the wonderful landscape. Whereas taking the wrong exit or getting lost in a strange town had been kind of fun before, it was now arousing anger and frustration. My driving was becoming aggressive and erratic, and my temper was increasingly frayed.

Besides being famous for crappy operating computer systems and overpriced coffee, Seattle also popularized neglecting your personal hygiene, wearing baggy pullovers, getting bodily piercing and blowing your head off with a shotgun. As I hit Seattle’s southern suburbs I wasn’t quite at the shotgun stage – but knew I soon would be.

My fears about the treatment were unfounded. It was very professional and surprisingly painless, and I was on my way within four hours. The best way to get into the city, I was told, was via a ferry, which was left from a jetty a couple of miles down the road.

Even though I’d been advised not to eat or drink anything, I decided a single pint on the boat wouldn’t hurt. Unfortunately, those indulging in alcohol are confined to a small, enclosed area in the middle of the boat. This spectacular view is exclusively for nondrinkers.

In Seattle, Priceline had once again “upgraded” me, this time to the Crowne Plaza, a swanky skyscraper hotel in the middle of town. But I’m not going to complain about the accompanying outrageous parking, food and Internet fees. Instead, I’ll just say what a privilege it was to be staying at such a snooty pad.

I’d arranged to meet up with a young British guy, Ricky, in Seattle who was also heading east. The idea was to share the driving. However, the more I thought about the trip, the more, I thought about another plan. Why not foist the entire responsibility on him and just fly back to New York instead?

Despite supporting Liverpool, Ricky seemed like a nice chap. After taking the car for a spin we went to the pub and proceeded to get hammered. If I decided to fly back to New York, he said, he promised to look after the car, not crash, and be in New York in ten days.

As Ricky was staying in a dorm, I suggested he share my hotel bedroom. However, after he agreed to bunk up with me, I found that Priceline would not extend my stay at the Crowne Plaza. Instead, the Negotiator negotiated a deal at “Seattle’s premier gay venue”, the Max. That artsy boutique hotel is chasing the pink dollar with a vengeance. Its keycards state “The Queen Sleeps Here”. Its sells $30 “intimacy kits” featuring lickable oil, massage bars, condoms, lube, and a “pleasure ring”. And the bags containing the hairdryers look like this

I broke the news to Ricky, but he didn’t appear too nervous. We settled into our cramped room like the numerous other male couples staying at the hotel. But instead of making use of the intimacy kit, we were formulating a plan. Ricky appeared surprised that the car didn’t have a name. How about Max, he suggested? My alternative was “beep” – which would allow me to be “Beepless in Seattle.

While I would fly to New York, we decided, Ricky would share the driving with Jess, a cute girl with a nose ring, tattoos on her face and a suspended driving license. I was slightly the worse for drink when I agreed to the Jess part of the plan.

So that’s it. In slightly anticlimactic circumstances, my US road trip has come to an end. No more new cities, car worries, moans about hotel rip offs, crappy pictures or drunken escapades from me. I’m off to watch the World Cup in New York, while Ricky takes over the driving.

But it’s not quite the end of the blog. Ricky and Jess will hopefully provide at least one update from the road. And I’ll provide some final thoughts when I can gather them together. But for now, I just want to relax and enjoy the feeling of not being in a car.