August 04, 2004
I'm not in Seattle
I'm in Tacoma, Washington. Recondo lied to me about where he was but I found the place with no problem. I had a lovely flight out here, with a three year-old brat screaming and crying two seats in front of me all the way. The little shit didn't shut up from Atlanta until when we landed at Sea-Tac Airport. Then he promptly fell asleep as the plane was pulling up to the unloading gate.
I wanted to kill him and strangle both of his parents.
I also managed to get to the shuttle desk just in time to see the one I wanted pulling away as I bought my ticket. I had to wait 40 minutes for the next one and I froze my ass off outside the airport terminal. I was dressed in nothing but cut-off jeans, sandals and a short-sleeved shirt because Georgia told me the weather was wonderful out here.
She swears that it WAS until today, when it turned cold, cloudy and windy. I got to the hotel room still shivering, put on my cold weather gear and we went out to eat.
The sun came out and I sweated my ass off after that. I don't believe the State of Washington likes me being here. I am certain that the three-hour time change is going to screw my body clock to a fare-thee-well, too. An auspicious beginning to a grand adventure.
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