How Did I Get Here?

Monday

When I was a kid, my father would take my brother and I to the Space Needle. It was one of those searing childhood memories that almost sparkle in my recollection.

The next time I was there, I took my future wife to dinner before prom. It cost me a fortune to eat up there but the top rotated and I had a tiny steak the size of a Ding Dong and steamed carrots. I wore a tux and she wore what would end up being her wedding dress.

A few years later, I took my mother up to the top for the first time. I was a brand new Marine Second Lieutenant and I was able to show her the city her baby graduated college from and the city where he became an Officer of Marines.

Today, I returned to the top of the Needle and this time, I was able to take my son and daughter there to see the sights. I also had Killjoy and the Weez up there but since they put safety nets, my plan for Killjoy was foiled. Maybe some other time, Killjoy.

Walking around the Needle, all these memories flooded my mind and I think I caught a whisper of that feeling I had as a kid. The Needle is iconic; a glaring landmark from my childhood that represents all the good times I had during the summers in Seattle.

I was a little put off by the commercialization at the bottom where you could buy just about any item emblazoned with the likeness of the Needle but hey, they gotta make a buck, right?

I will point out that there WAS a military discount, as opposed to the lame-ass St. Louis commies who look at you like you took a steamer in the punchbowl for even ASKING for a military discount. I mean, really, what have WE ever done to deserve a discount?

This time was the first time I actually looked from the different perspectives and really appreciated the views from way up there. Mt. Rainier was in full view and each direction showed something iconic about Seattle. It was well worth the money to see and I would encourage anyone who goes there to not yell at their kid the whole time and actually enjoy the spectacle instead of making one. Hypothetically speaking, of course.

Later on, our friends had a party for us. Carrie has kept in contact with many of her close friends from high school and they were nice enough to organize a get-together (the “we’re getting old” version of the word “party.”)

The first person we saw coming through the door was Scott. I had not seen Scott since I was in high school so we are talking 1987. And you would think that he would look older. I mean, I sure as hell do and thus, it is not fair. And I’m not just saying that to kiss his ass, he doesn’t even read my drivel. I’m saying it because HE LOOKED EXACTLY THE SAME. Like some kind of fucking vampire or something.

I mean, what the hell? This guy still looked 19 and I kept staring at him, wondering what the hell was going on. The Law of Guy forbade me from telling him how young he still looked but I broke that after one beer.

He was the boyfriend of one of Carrie’s friends and, sorry Scott, but the vivid memories I have of him is of him being so into Shannon, he would have pulled The Fly move on her if he could and thrown her into a pod. I remember how he used to just eat her entire face at parties.

Anyway, Lestat was there along with many others.

There was Ang and Bryan who hosted the party. The thumbnail on them is that he was a few years younger than her so it always degrades to jokes about her robbing the cradle and how we will be crapping our Depends but still be teasing him about only being in his 80s.

Paul and Alison are the Mormon friends who don’t try to convert the rest of us. They are the Stepford family but in a good way. Every Dad wants to be like Paul. Every Mom wants to be like Al. And Paul works for Microsoft so that makes him instantly cool.

My brother showed up but had to leave early. Killjoy also had a prior engagement so she was gone too. Wait, I never put that together until now. You think…. naw.

Then there was Kelly who I hadn’t seen in a long time. Kelly and I were the original Killjoy and Viper. We were at each other’s throat every chance we got. I was the brother she never wanted and after a night of verbal sparring, we would hug and thank each other as worthy opponents. Then she would knee me in the balls and that would be the night.

So ended this wonderful day. I was able to visit a central figure in my childhood and then round out the night in the company of old friends (all but Bryan, of course.) Oh wait, wrong context of “old.”

They say a man’s wealth is measured in fond memories and old friends.

I’m rich beyond measure.

Free Advice for Today: “Get a haircut at least a week before the big interview.”