Well, it's come and gone. My first real-life vacation. Three weeks ago (shit, I need to post *way* more often), I decided to cash in on a little paid-time-off. Kim and I hastily packed out bags and made way for the San Juan islands.
The drive started early. We drank coffee and listened to The Go! Team as we tore up the center of Washington. Sunglasses, sun and laughter made the drive completely and utterly painless. She's the best road-trip partner in the world -- she never ceases to amaze me. Example: at her job, she purposefully references a particular customer's dog by the wrong name so that her coworkers may unknowingly call it that. Classic.
We arrive in Anacortes. We stopped at a really clean and nice food market and purchased some alcoholic beverages for the upcoming wait (this hot tip came to be through my parents. Thanks, mom!). We then drove through town and promptly waited for 2.5 hours for the ferry to show up. It was an interesting crowd. Lots of cars. The islands go apeshit during the weekends this time of year. Tourists galore. We sat in the car, doors open, listened to Feist, drank some drinks and waited. I also played a little gameboy. I'm a nerd like that.
A quick aside -- I recently repaired an old gameboy given to me during my freshman year in college. My original, uber-big one died a painful death years previous, so I still have a shitload of games. Old games. I'm hooked on Baseball. I sucked so much ass at it as a kid -- this game is hard shit. 1989 hard. When beating a videogame meant that you were hot shit. Anyway, I suck just as much, but now I have uncanny dedication. Kind of.
We finally board the ferry and ride out to the islands. I've been here before, so I had a lot of fun watching Kim's face as we started sailing into the islands. Even from behind her huge "stunna-shades," her eyes light up. This place has that effect on people.
Pack your bags, we'll leave tonight.
Anyway, we make it to the island and it's totally beautiful. There isn't much commerce or economy on Lopez, so not many tourists hit it up. There's one shitty hotel, so unless you're willing to pay out-the-nose cottage rental fees, like to camp or have friends / family on the island, you're fucked. Luckily, I fell in the later category. I have a long-lost uncle who, alongside his wife, lives on this magestic island. A long-lost uncle that is cooler than any human I have ever met. Seriously. The weather was outrageously nice and the place is so beautiful that it makes the suburban town of Beaverton look even more like a fucking blemish on the face of the earth. It's really that great.
We eat amazing food -- homemade pasta with fresh-caught crab, shrip and scallops. And lots of wine. Really top-notch shit. Did I mention that my Uncle is practically a gourmet chef? Holy fuck. Delicious. We slept like logs that night, as we had a long day ahead of us.
Drinking and being silly at the edge of the world.
08:00 -- Wake up in the guest house. Open freezer. Frozen Peets coffee. Such a treat. I'm so burnt to the swill at work that I've started drinking tea.
09:30 -- Three mile walk with the D and J and their three Goldens. I brought them (the people) new shoes. They wore them. I don't know if they were just humouring me. Picking out shoes for people is tough shit.
11:00 -- Sit down for a light lunch.
12:00 -- Head to airport for an impromptu flight around the islands in D's plane. Holy shit. I drink a beer on the way to the airport.
02:00 -- Head back to house. Take a nap. YES!
04:00 -- Drive halfway around the island to some docks where a boat is being stowed. Pop a beer. Go capture crabs from crab pots.
05:00 -- Make a walk out to Iceburg Point. Clearly a lot of foot-traffic in the area, but still, gorgeous.
07:00 -- Crabs we caught had been turned into the most delicious crabcakes I've ever had in my life. We eat some delicious Salmon. More wine. More talk. More wine.
10:00 -- Then, we slept.
We woke late in the morning. We ate some delicious (are you seeing a trend here?) Mexican omelets. We parked our car about 4.5 hours earlier in line for the Ferry. We walked around another park before getting dropped off. We ride back on the ferry, see some dolphins, which, according to Kim "Was the cherry on top." My cherry on top? Coming back with a big-ass bag of M80s given to me by D. INDIAN REZ FIREWORKS to the rescue.
We wasted no time driving our asses to Seattle. What for, may you ask? Well, kind sir, we had a date with Daft Punk. Daft Motherfucking Punk. With Zac. Zac was there.
But, before we could see daft punk, we had to sit through The Rapture and Kavinsky and SebastiAn. Kavinsky and SebastiAn played two 'mini sets' before and after The Rapture. It was pretty solid stuff. They did spin a lot of Justice samples. Hrmm. The rapture, well, fuck The Rapture. Maybe I was overly tired from the long travels, but they were just... annoying. I'd seen them before (with Cursive and Mogwai) and they failed to impress there. I guess it's just not for me.
The Daft Punk set, well, it was pretty flawless. The show itself was essentially the same layout and pattern as their Coachella performance -- a lot of the same transitions / mixups. It was nothing like Coachella as far as vibe goes. That performance was absolutely mindblowing -- no one was expecting it. Don't get me wrong, however -- it was an amazing set and I still bow to the almighty Daft pyramid.
Kim, Zac and I then rocked it to Sheris for some food. Then, we hit the road. We got home around 3:30am. I believe. I was so fucking spent. During the drive, around 1:30am, Kim passed out. I was hecka tired as well. All I could do to stay awake was listen to Botch and old Metallica (RIDE THE LIGHTNING, BITCHES) really, really loud. And yell along. Yar.
When he asked me to pull extra extra hard, I just acted like I did.
This last weekend, Kim finally dropped my birthday present on me -- a hot air balloon ride. I'd never been on one -- I had no idea what to expect. All I knew -- we had to wake at 3:30am to get to the place before sunrise. We drive out there only to find a very legit setup. About 6 balloons that can hold around 7 people each. On the ground, each balloon had a team of 6 people helping to set up the balloon. They used us for help as well. I had to pull on a rope.
We finally get up in the air and it's totally fucking wonderful. As we 'ascended,' we came close enough to this tall tree to touch the very tip-top of it. I did. It was neat. We flew around for about 45 minutes before touching down in a field. It was gorgeous. We had to help pack up the balloon as well. The field smelled like someone had just done some heavy-duty manure fertilization. We get into the vans and drive back to the launchpad. They have all sorts of crazy breakfast foods for us. Then, one of the pilots gave a speech. He was the owner of the company. He also piloted our balloon. This man was genuinely happy. He makes money. Judging by the attendance, really good money. He gets paid to fly people around in a balloon. Why wouldn't he be the happiest guy ever.
God damn, I wish I had some of those fucking M80s.
The best part? The ultra-elite balloon team ground-force? They are all volunteers. They volunteer *SEVEN* times and they get a free ride. Talk about a great scheme for the owner. Free labor == dollar, dollar billz, yo.
This past week, Kim and I went and saw Subtle. I've seen them so many times, and every time, it's so fucking entertaining. Dose was in fine form. I've never seen him *NOT* in fine form. That man is a near-god on stage. I also went and saw Stardust, which you might remember, I 'listened to' on the way to and fro Boston (aka uglyville, USA). It sucked. They murdered that wonderfully quaint little chunk of fantasy. If I was neil gaiman, I'd be slapping some bitches right about now.
Anyway, that's it for now. I love you all.
