The smell of urine assaulted my senses as I got off the Light Rail, Seattle’s rapid transit system, and started walking. It’s been 10 years since I’d been in Seattle and 15 since I’d lived there.
Ah…the smell of a highly populated area that equates to cheap public transportation, delicious foods of every variety, fun events, and — well, pee.
For months, my Morgan Wallen tickets had been winking at me from the bottom of my inbox, at the end of my to-do list. These were a birthday present to myself purchased 4 months early. Better late than never, I’d say.
As I made my way toward my Airbnb, the GPS directed me down a street that didn’t seem to exist. Confused, I turned around and headed up some stairs, hoping I was on the right path. After ascending several flights of stairs and dragging my luggage behind me, the small blinking dot told me I was definitely not on the right path. But I’d be damned if I climbed all those stairs for nothing, so I kept walking.
After several hundred feet, I looked down and saw the address for the building my Airbnb apartment was located. Ugh. Surely there would be stairs leading down soon.
I kept walking. Pretty soon I became acutely aware that there was no one around, and everything was made of concrete. Not a decorative plant or fountain in sight. I made a mental note not to come through Concrete Park in the dark.
Eventually I made my way down some stairs, past the back of what looked like a hotel where the dumpsters were kept, and tried not to breathe in the overpowering smells.
At the front of my building, I looked into a screen that mirrored my red, sweaty face and punched in the access code. The first door clicked and I swung it open wide and tugged my luggage through. As the first door closed behind me, the second door clicked, allowing me to pass through.
Once I made it to the apartment on the 3rd floor, I took off my clothes and threw them in a sweaty pile as I tried to figure out how to cool the room down. I wasn’t on the temperate Oregon coast anymore.
After unpacking and setting up our sleep spaces, I waited for my cousin. It was late (10PM, late by all Florence definitions) by the time the little car in the Uber app announced her arrival and I hurried down to the lobby to greet her. We dropped off her luggage and immediately went out on a walk, going the opposite direction of Concrete Park. The blinking lights of restaurants and bars beckoned to us. I felt excited at the mere option of walking into any of these places at this hour. Back in Florence, the streets rolled up by 9.
We stopped at a convenience store for a case of La Croix and some snacks and made our way back to the apartment. Giddy from having not seen each other in awhile, we stayed up chatting until we couldn’t hold our eyes open any longer.
Day 1 – Morgan Wallen Concert
The next morning, we started by walking to Seattle’s International District in search of Dim Sum at the last restaurant still offering it by cart. After stuffing ourselves silly with dumplings-galore, we meandered through the streets of Chinatown peering into the shops with trinkets and dried herbal medicines.
Eventually, we made our way to the pre-party at the front of the arena. Outside, the line for merchandise was 3 hours long. Inside, there was no line at all. Feeling like we’d gamed the system, we grabbed some swag and sat down with our $17/each cans of beer.
After several hours, the show’s openers started playing. We spent our time between our seats and walking around the stadium. Workers were selling a variety of drinks out of huge neon-colored bins. Garbage cans overflowed with paper towels and discarded cups and bottles.
My favorite part of the entire show was Miranda Lambert’s performance. She sang flawlessly and I had a clear view of her on stage.
As Morgan Wallen’s entrance loomed closer, the anticipation in the air thickened. People around us started standing and every little change on the stage erupted in sporadic screams across the stadium.
Finally, the moment came when he exploded onto the stage in a show of fire and lights. The familiar lilt of his accent blared across the speakers, managing to rise above the screams of the crowd.
The kid in front of me jumped onto his seat – and despite my neighbor telling him to get down, he stayed there for the entirety of the show. His young mother stood on the chair next to him and let out screams, reminiscent of the Hawaiian’s ‘Chee Hoo’, about every 3 minutes for the entire 3 hours. By the end, her scream was hoarse and raspy.
He sang familiar favorites with material from his latest album mixed in. The crowd noticeably quieted during his newer songs as many of us hadn’t heard them before. But the highlight of the night was when he transitioned to a smaller stage and sang an acoustic Jason Isbell’s, “Cover Me Up” followed by “Sand in my Boots.”
By the end of the night, my feet ached – unaccustomed to standing for so long. We walked back to our Airbnb despite me feeling very tempted by the bike-share rentals winking at me along every street.
“Guess how many steps we walked today?” I asked as I laid on the bed looking at my FitBit app.
27,000
“That’s like a half-marathon,” I said as I yawned and gave myself a mental pat on the back. I spent the night reading reviews of Morgan Wallen’s tour, including the Seattle Time’s scathing review mocking him for a “tough guy” entrance and “nasally register.” Guess this is just another way I differ from this city now.
Day 2 – Wandering Around Seattle
The next morning, we started the day by going to the nearest Pho place. We sat down next to a large, artificial cherry blossom tree accenting the table.
Unfortunately, the pho was disappointing, to say the least. It was missing some essential ingredients required to classify it as authentic Vietnamese food.
Should’ve gone back to the International District.
After breakfast, we made our way to the Starbucks Reserve, a large location showcasing how they roast their beans and even included a bar. The line for coffee went out the door so we decided to have some morning cocktails instead.
Satisfied with our morning, we made our way to Pike’s Place. Inside were the familiar fish market, fresh flower stands, natural body product stalls, and other handmaid items booths. Pike’s is so crowded on a daily basis that a natural traffic pattern emerges. Foot traffic divides into basically 4 lanes, with the 2 in the middle moving in opposite directions. If someone wants to stop and look at something, they have to step out of the moving lanes and into the stationary lanes on either end.
I wondered if it were a hard concept for certain neuro-divergent people. I missed my dogs and imagined how each one would struggle with which parts.
At one natural products stand, the display featured about 16 products with unique scents. My cousin spent a long time there so I started asking the owner about his business. He described how the products can shift during the hot and cold of transit so he recommended microwaving the product for 15 seconds upon opening. It’s a changing consumer landscape where people increasingly value the environment over convenience.
Clearly it’s what’s required to make a difference – and yet, I’m not sure I’m in the right tax bracket to embrace this new philosophy fully.
My sister, who lives in Reno, is the shining example of a consumer who purchases based on her values. Everything is all-natural, organic, minimally processed, responsibly sourced, plant-based etc. At one point, my cousin and I discuss whether or not fluoride should be put in drinking water. We decided to text my sister to see if she uses natural toothpaste without fluoride.
“I do, but mostly for sustainability in order to reduce plastic use. I love modern medicine and science. LOVE IT,” she exclaimed as we burst into laughter at the absurdity of having to explain one’s self these days.
After spending several hours at Pike’s Market, we made our way back into the International District. Despite it being dinner time, I noticed all the restaurants seemed empty.
What is going on with Seattle’s Chinatown?
Turns out, Seattle is pushing their homeless into the International District and leaving the minorities to deal with the problem so tourists are avoiding the area. It’s a sad state of affairs and the city needs to do better.
Homeless or not, it didn’t prevent us from enjoying a big bowl of noodles. Interestingly enough, the restaurant was clearly transitioning to new technology. We ordered and paid through a QR code and used the website to ask for any service. I can’t imagine foreigners or older people being able to do this successfully, but I suppose it didn’t much matter in an empty restaurant on a Saturday evening.
After dinner, we returned to the waterfront where we came across a 3-hour long parade sponsored by Alaska Airlines. It began with Seattle’s police on motorcycles weaving back and forth in a synchronized pattern with their lights blaring.
Group after group moved past us, including each division of the military, various dance ensembles, cultural clubs, marching bands, color guards, and other notable groups.
At one point, a counter protest paraded behind us wearing all handmaid’s cloaks with their white caps bowed, holding a large sign that said, “DefundMusk.com.”
Two kids on motorbikes went rogue and whizzed by against parade traffic doing wheelies.
All in all, it was a welcomed way to pass the evening. On our way back to the apartment, we walked by the gum wall and it seemed our trip was complete.
Thinking back to Florence, all the foods that I’d grown tired of didn’t seem so bad. The thought of our clean streets teeming with dogs, and my own 3 doodley heads, welcomed me. And the idea of planning another trip into the wide world put a pep in my step. It seems cities give me what other countries used to, as far as a cultural shock.
Photos From the Entire Trip
[That’s it.] Thanks for tuning in.
Leave a Reply