It's no news flash that Seattle is a cold and rainy place.
Oh, and speaking of news flashes, according to komonews.com, Seattle only gets fifty-eight sunny days per year.
By the way, why do TV stations want us to leave our couches to access their websites? Usually I feel so ashamed for even watching local news that I strap on a self-abusive spiked rope belt like the crazy monk in The DaVinci Code, so any excuse to extricate myself from the elevator talk between the news anchor and weather guy is as welcome as spotting a fresh toilet paper roll without getting up.
Sorry about that really long sentence.
Anyway, yeah, Seattle—we don't see a lot of sun here. And when we do, people act really odd.
My wife awakened me this morning, Mother's Day, by staring at me until I woke up. It's weird how someone's eyes can actually burn through your slumber to jar you into consciousness. Then again, I suspect it's a genetic female trait which can be traced to ancient cave dwelling women who just really had something on their minds.
The second my lids pried themselves open, she began speaking. Again, since it's Mother's Day, I held no political capital. "Hi. It's so nice out, why don't we go for a nice walk on Alki, get some Starbucks and maybe read the paper?"
Sure, it was phrased like a question, but it wasn't a question.
Opting for a top shelf experience from the get-go, I suggested taking the Hyndai sedan rather than the Kia minivan. I felt that my lady deserved the unbridled luxury of our Elantra to celebrate those two days her body contorted so profoundly and bloodily to usher forth new life.
We drove the ten minutes to Alki Beach, the original settlement of Seattle's honky pioneers. Naturally, the natives had already been there for a few hundred or thousand years before Whitie arrived, but they didn't seem to mind relocating to some nice real estate in south King County where they could quietly enjoy a little touch of whopping cough courtesy of those parting high fives.
Okay, tangenting. Must stick to the story.
So we got to Alki, parked the car and started walking. It's kind of a Venice Beach type situation, where roller bladers, cyclists, two-on-two volleyball games and various and sundry rental vehicles litter the concourse.
But here's the thing: these are people who aren't used to this, like southern Californians. We don't get sunshine in Seattle...ever. And that's why, while I don't like to give unsolicited advice, I feel a straining necessity to talk to my people right now.
Citizens of Seattle, here's some food for thought next time a beautiful day lures you to the beach:
1) You don't have to take your shirt off on the first sunny day, guys. In fact, you shouldn't. I saw some dudes who were so white they were teal. Like you could see the veins under their skin, similar to the "Bodies" exhibit . Guys, do some pre-tanning in your back yard, or go to one of those booths like that insane tan mom, just don't take enough time to finish a Sudoku book and a Lunchable like she does.
2) Hey you, the middle-aged guy with the girlfriend who is twenty years younger and you've been waiting all winter to display her on a nice stroll down the promenade—you look like a tool and you creep me out because she could be your daughter and I'm visualizing you and her doing it. Go to Vegas instead, where everyone looks like you.
3) Don't attach your dogs' leash to your bike's handlebars. I wouldn't really mind seeing you weeded from the human gene pool this way, but you do put us all at risk with this behavior.
4) If you want to play whiffle ball with your kids in the sand because it seems like a nice family activity, absolutely go for it. But don't make your six-year-old son pitch to you so you can show him how far you can hit the ball and then almost take your four-year-old daughter's head off. This is no way to show Seattle that you've still got it.
Okay, I now realize that all my beach advice has been aimed at the men of the Puget Sound area, but I'm not just giving the women a pass because it's Mother's Day. Really.
I'm thinking it's probably just a bunch of liberated guys who said to themselves, "Screw it. This is one Sunday I'm taking a break from working at Microsoft."