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Taste of Seattle for Shane and Amy

Monday, April 19th, 2010

Quote of the Day: “There cannot be a crisis next week. My schedule is already full.”

- Henry Kissinger

Let’s see, take Shane to Olympia, the state capitol, check.

Take him to Safeco Stadium for the first time and see the Mariners get spanked like little girls, check.

Hmmm, day three of the surprise visit by me good friend and mentor, what to do, what to do…

Seattle, baby!

I gave Shane the Jason’s Tour of Seattle treatment that started at Gasworks Park, near the University of Washington and overlooking Elliot Bay. I love this park for many reasons. I used to run here from the UW on training runs, it has this crazy old painted machinery that makes it look a little Dr. Suess-ish, and there is a hill where you can watch seaplanes take off and land on the water.

ON THE WATER!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I have taken other people here from time to time but we won’t talk about the bodies of my daughter’s would-be suitors…

After I forced Shane to hobble his broken ass up to the top of the hill, and thoroughly enjoyed him wincing all the way down, we moved on.

I know, I’m an ass. No need for repetitiveness here, folks.

Our next stop was Kerry Point. My brother-in-law showed us this cool spot on Queen Ann Hill where you can see all of Seattle in a spectacular view.

I was more than a little afraid that Shane might take the opportunity to throw me ass over teakettle in response to the Gasworks Park Death march. Luckily, I was his ride home.

The next place we had to hit was Pike Place Market. I mean, come on, how could I possible call it Jason’s Tour of Seattle without hitting The Market?

And hey, what do you know, more steps to drag Shane’s broken ass up.

If you have never been through this place, it started in the early part of the 1900s as a local farmers’ market and has just kept going. Now it’s one of the biggest attractions. It has an indoor/outdoor covered walkway you shuffle through with a sea of humanity. The sights, smells, and sounds make it an experience you won’t soon forget.

If you have ever seen the famous fish-throwing guys, here is where they do it. You order up a salmon and they will make a show of throwing it from one end to the other, catching the flying fish with newspaper.

After looking through the spectacle, we made our way outside and walked along the outside portion where, drumroll, please……………………………..


Yes, the first one, and it still operates.

Other than showing Shane the first Starbucks (I mean, what could be cooler?), I had a mission to get a pound of coffee for my friend Amy who is a pilot serving in Afghanistan. I am making her a care package with a “Taste of Seattle” theme and one of the things I want to include is the blend of coffee ONLY sold at the original Starbucks.

Now here is where Starbuck coffee snobbery meets modern warfare realities.

Anyone familiar with coffee beans, you know that you grind them and if you have your panties all twisted up so tight that your asshole is hiked up to your actual face, you will insist that the beans are not more than a certain age and, this is the Golden Rule of all Golden Rules (almost to the degree of “Oprah Says”….)

Thy mustent grindeth thine beans until the very moment thy arst ready to brewesth, lest the flavor of the bean will lose the bouquet and taste like so much fecal piss-paste.

But here was my conundrum: Amy is out in the middle of Camel-hump Nowhere-astan living just above the dirt in a tent. A coffee bean grinder probably isn’t on the load-out manifest and if I am lucky, she has a coffee pot that she will be able to dump a little bit of Seattle’s Java of Life into and forget for just a moment that she lives in a gigantic port-a-potty.

So I grab a pound of the coffee purported only available in this original store and when I take it to the front to pay, I ask the Starbuck-naut to grind that bastard up for me nice and good.

I might as well have asked him to put his genitals in a meat grinder for me.

The shock and horror of, oh clutch the pearls!, grinding a whole pound of coffee which starts the timer for when this stuff will lose every shred of goodness, according to Starbucky here, is almost too much for him to handle.

“You want me to grind it all?”


“Where are you sending it?”


“Oh, it will never keep. It loses all its flavor after…”

“Look, pal, I’m sending it to a Marine in Afghanistan. She probably shits in a bucket so I don’t think there will be a grinder handy so unless you expect her to slam your precious beans between two rocks like Chaka on the Land of the Lost, I think you had better just grind it. That way she can just scoop it into her likely ancient coffeemaker and enjoy a better cup of coffee than the camel shit she is currently forced to choke down.”

I think Skippy got the picture because he did it. Reluctantly. As though it was an insult to his craft to provide ground coffee. Then the jackass tried to sell me on the instant crap that would supposedly keep better on the way over.

It was just a very vivid reminder that the distance between the fist Starbucks in Seattle Washington was more than x number of miles away from the sands of Afghanistan. More like worlds apart.

Amy will get her ground coffee but will it be freshly ground and at the peak of the rich oil-release cycle dictated by cafe doctrine? No.

Would it be up to the standards of Birkenstock-wearing, rectangular-reading glass-sporting, faggoty Seattle coffee snob standards?

Hell no!

But it will be Starbuck’s coffee sipped in the company of Warriors and because of that, it will be the best tasting coffee I can provide from over here.

Canteen cups up, Amy. Enjoy the mud.

Free Advice for Today: “Offer hope.”

- H. Jackson Brown, Jr.

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  1. [...] A few weeks ago, I sent a package to a good friend who is serving in Iraq. I had written about the coffee I was sending her here. [...]

    Pingback by How Did I Get Here? » Blog Archive » Thank You for the Thank You! — July 3, 2011 @ 1:19 pm

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