Then We Were There

Reflections on the road trip: We had a great time seeing the sights and driving up through the northwest. MK is the worst side seat driver of all time, so I was happiest when he was sleeping. He also kept me committed to my diet by not allowing any junk food to be consumed in the car. Isn’t that terrible? We had Oatmeal breakfast bars, grocery store sandwiches, and plain almonds for snacks. Dinner would be more sandwiches and bars. To me, road trips aren’t real unless they include McDonalds (esp. for breakfast) and chex mix and cokes and slurpees and honey roasted sugar coated peanuts. But Noooooo. MK was convinced that the eating out we did the week before while saying our goodbyes more than negated this past 6 months that I’ve spent committing to working out and losing ten pounds. He is still waiting for me to thank him.

We roll up into Seattle on a cool bridge that goes through a cliff or something. And there is a traffic jam. Good start, huh? We are about 3 hours early for the realtor that is letting us in our place, so we drive around the city to see what we can see. It comes up on lunch time and we start to look for a place. There is nothing within 30 miles of our new place, as we drive by and around over and over, where we can eat and park the car. Hmm. We pull into “Taco Time” just because they have a lot. MK thinks it will be fine. I think it is not taco time. I was right, and it will never, ever again be taco time as long as I live. Suffice to say, without elaborating: yuck, yuck, yuck.

We still have time, and in my SUPER SWEET AUSTIN PERSONALITY THAT THINKS THAT EVERYONE IS FRIENDLY, I decide to run in to the lobby and ask where we can leave our car until it is time to meet our realtor. I have been driving. 10 hours. I have jeans and a striped shirt on. I even have makeup on. But WHAT does mr. works at the front desk tell me in his terrible accent? Basically that I couldn’t possibly be moving in to this luxurious downtown upscale residence. He looks me up and down and hands me his ‘card’ in case he can help me ‘clear up my confusion’. So help me, it was all I could do to get in the drivers seat and turn that bus around. MK is lucky he was there. I was irate.

Rant: Clearly, who do these people think they are that just LOOK at someone and make assumptions? You don’t know me! I could own the building! You just work in it. Can YOU afford to live there on your salary!?! Don’t get an attitude with me. I have never been so upset. The being in the car all day and being tired and cranky didn’t help. It took MK a long time to calm me down. We parked down by the south side bridges and walked along the north end of the international district. Me, of course, looking at my reflection everywhere trying to see just how bad and poor I looked, lest another Seattle-ite break my heart talking down to me.

Finally, it comes up on 4 and we head back. I’m not smiling. Our realtor lets us in and re-introduces us to the HELP. I get over that when I see our place. It’s just like the pictures.

Realtor leaves and we start taking things up. He let us know we were going to have to have a meeting with the HELP that they call ‘orientation’. As though all these rich snooty snootertons don’t know how to work an elevator…MK goes to the front desk to arrange it. Of course, he’s in an FC UK pressed polo, he gets no slack from jean-paul-conciergey. WHO THEN TURNS TO ME, AND ASKS MK “WHO IS SHE TO YOU?” I swear, friends, he is fixing to get a beat down.

We unpack most of the car and get hungry again. There is a Whole Foods a block away, so we load up on dinner and breakfast and head back. MK unpacks and organizes, I work on the closet and learning the new cable channels, and cook dinner. By the way, it was plenty sunny out, and we headed up to the roof. We had the wine dude at WF get us a WA red and white. We brought the red up there, and toasted to the view, the sunset, and me not murdering any helpless old gentlemen. I’m not sure if day one was a success or a devastation. I’m going to need more time.


Yes, that’s our view from the roof. Click on it, it’s lovely.


6 thoughts on “Then We Were There

  1. Santi – I like the WF, but do not think I can subsist on WF alone.

    Snippy – Huh? Whatever. The lesson is don’t make young women cry or else you are a jerk. Not maybe he has feelings too. Even if he DID own the penthouse, that was uncalled for.

  2. WTF? I don’t give a shit who owns the building! You do NOT treat people that way, whether you believe them to be “confused” about their surroundings or not. Last time I checked, common courtesy came standard in the hospitality industry. The HELP needs a swift kick in the ass and an extra shift scrubbing the lobby toilets to remind him of his place. HOW DARE HE. What’s next? He refuses you entry when you return all sweaty from a run? This behavior needs to be addressed.

  3. Want me to come up there and put him in his place? I’m quite good at it actually, and I have experience dealing with snooty rich people in luxury highrises.

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