We’re on the plane, flying back to L.A., and at the moment that’s pretty much what my head is turning into. On a brighter note, the wifi connection I’m getting at 30,000 feet is far superior to the crappy signal we squeezed from the aether of our hotel room, so I can finally post a few vacation snaps. Or rather, pictures I surreptitiously snapped of someone else’s vacation.
Yesterday we took my cold out for a stroll through the wet and blustery streets of downtown Seattle (as I mentioned to a friend, this is a move that connoisseurs of suicide will immediately recognize as “the William Henry Harrison”). We wound up taking the monorail to the Space Needle, and along with the remnants of the 1962 World’s Fair (an appellation I miss. “Expo” just doesn’t evoke the same sense of wide-eyed wonder; it sounds more like a dreary trade show at the Convention Center) we discovered that the Guy Fawkes-faced anti-hero from V for Vendetta appears to have broken the back of British neo-fascism and is treating his family to a well-deserved holiday:
Later, the happy young anarchist family lingered over a tasty brunch at the Sky City restaurant, then visited the gift shop. Then they blew up the Space Needle.
Talk about a Busman’s Holiday.
I’m b-a-a-ck!
My family chipped in to buy me a new computer. Happy birthday to me.
I can’t see the word “monorail” without thinking of that Simpsons episode where Phil Hartman played a Harold Hill type con artist.
“Monorail! Monorail…”
Left by Bill S on March 15th, 2009