Friday:
Will and I took a road trip back up the old Seattle way this weekend to catch up with the hombres in particular, for the opening weekend of Silent Hill. We made phenomenal time on the drive up there, even with the Portland congestion, but, alas, we arrived too late and even though we saw Peter at the theater, he was holding the last available tickets for the evening's final show (at 10:45?!?) for his co-workers. Forced to reschedule, we returned to Mike's apartment from which Will quickly disappeared (to watch movie's with Katie) and where I got to check out the beginning of DreamFall. DreamFall seems interesting, although it looks like a slower kind of Indigo Prophecy, the impressive impact Indigo Prophecy had on me means I'll be willing to give it a shot at some point. (Note to self: Indigo P has hit the $20 mark, its time to add it to my collection).
Saturday:
The next morning we were better organized as Will Fandangoed the entire groups' tickets a couple hours in advance. As everyone was getting ready to go out for breakfast, I got a call from Maria that she was finally off work, and was cool to come hang out for the movie. Unfortunately, she'd never been to Mike or Katie's new cribs, and like me, was unfamiliar with the Alderwood mall, so I headed down into Redmond to pick her up. It had been a while since I'd done this drive, so it was kind of cool to see how Kirkland and Redmond had changed. Nothing drastic, just the funny feeling of wondering where this or that landmark had gone, and realizing that I'd been away long enough for certain retail giants to have moved in and taken over certain areas. Anyway, before we headed back up North, Maria hooked me up with some of that awesome Apple Crunch bread from Great Harvest Bread where she works. That stuff is so awesome...
Back in Bothell, we pulled up to Patty's Egg Nest (such an awesome breakfast joint) hoping to catch the rest of the party still there (since I couldn't reach anyone on my cell). Again alas, they'd gone, so I missed out on breakfast. This was particularly disappointing because it was noon now and the last time I'd actually eaten was exactly 24 hours before when Will and I nabbed Taco Bell because it was cheap, fast, and would let us get back to work in time to play D&D (I'll tell you later). Perhaps the delirium I was suffering from lack of food was affecting my judgment, (or perhaps its proof that I have the world's calmest nerves, but slowest reflexes) but as I was backing out of Patty's parking I noticed the black car behind me start to back out as well. You may or may not know that I drive a reasonably big truck, and having a mismatched shell, I don't imagine its a terribly difficult vehicle to miss, but apparently the sun was just right or his windows were too tinted because as I was sitting motionless, trying to decide if I should pull back into my parking spot to get out of the way or lay on the horn the black VW bumped me.
Rubbing my rumbling tummy and hoping this guy would be cool (or at least NOT be 350-pounds of steroid induced irrational rage) I got out and went to go see if he was as willing as I was to just walk away and pretend nothing happened. Dude was actually pretty cool about it, but the complication came from both of our inexperience with mutual impacts (my only accidents had involved fences or shrubbery, oh, and that one light post, but I don't think Country Club Apartments will ever find out about that one) and the fact that his VW was brand spanking new. It didn't even have plates yet. Now, I don't know what kind of plastic new cars are made out of, but whatever it is, when it crumples, it cracks, and that's exactly what he had along the bumper line right under his trunk: a thin white crack about six inches long that stood out pretty well on a solid black car. The bigger problem for him was that this bumper wasn't so much of a bumper as it was a single solid shell that encased almost the entire car. Yeah, I can imagine THAT would be easy to fix. So he wasn't sure if it was worth reporting such a small thing, but we both agreed to trade insurance information anyway. He was going to deliberate and talk to his wife before making a decision, but promised to actually let me know if he was going to file any form of claim. I appreciated his concern, but being a bit of a pessimist, suddenly had some of my own. Though he seemed cool, what if his wife bit his head off for scratching their new car and demanded he report massive damages and a neck injury or some such because of my reckless, and probably alcohol afflicted road rage. So I decided to cover my ass. I called my insurance to make an early statement and give them a heads up in case a claim was brought against me.
Skipping ahead a bit, I felt a little better when he called me the next day and said he wasn't going to do anything about it except hope we could both be more careful in the future. That sounded good to me, except that now I feel like a heel because my insurance agent gave me a call today to take an official statement and to get the other guys number so they could call HIM, just to make sure he wasn't going to claim anything against me. I tried to brush it off and let them know what he'd told me, claiming I'd like to drop the whole affair as well, but he was adamant about their policy and starting to make it sound like they would end up doubting my common sense as an insurable driver. So, yeah, now I feel like a jackass because my company is bugging him during a work day. Ah, well. Picky bastards.
So finally catching up with Will, Mike, Zulema, and Katie we soon headed for the theater and met up with Steak who had been anxiously saving us seats (he'd apparently stopped by Patty's earlier and had turned purple with his inability to say anything about the movie to Will, who'd promised him a foot up his ass at the slightest peep). Still starving at this point, a hot dog commercial on the big screen finally put me over the edge and I rushed back to concessions and shelled out $11 for a movie meal of a hot dog, some pretzel sticks and a mega drink. Not really worth the price, but so filling. Although, even with food, or perhaps because of the quality of it, my stomach continued to make the strangest noises throughout the movie, especially at moments of implicit silence. Somewhat embarrassing, but perhaps I'm lucky enough that it was mistaken for ambiance?
Two hours later as we're watching the credits roll (and I'm hanging on to the sliver of hope that if I wait until the end they'll have a UFO ending) I'm listening to the clamor of disgust, confusion, and absolute adulation Silent Hill elicited from the audience. I think the entire gamut of available responses was represented in just our little row. Steak was stoked to finally be able to talk about the movie with Mike who, as a sound engineer AND fan of the games, was impressed by the range and skill of those who had managed to capture the uneasy ambiance from the games and transfer it over into glorious 5.1 Surround for the theater goers. Katie was also impressed (not an easy task on a literature major who is particularly fond of horror) and Will was combing some of the details over with her. Maria seemed to be the only one who hadn't fully enjoyed the experience citing (although she thought it was kind of nifty and did what it did well) that it was far to gory for her tastes. That statement made me realize why I HAD enjoyed the film so much: It was a true HORROR movie. It wasn't a frightfest or suspense thriller or a real psychological intrigue anything. The setting, the situation, the reasoning, and result, and the repercussions were truly horrible to conceive and behold. Silent Hill is unkind, and it it unforgiving, and I realize there are a lot of people who can't handle (stomach?) the kind of brutal torture. The scene on the steps of the chapel was the selling point for both of us. Maria later told me that was the point where she really couldn't handle it any further, but that was the point my jaw dropped and I was utterly shaken by what I had just seen. Just like the unnerving senses that creep up my spine when I play the games in the wee hours of the morning: it was not a good feeling, but it was an INTENSE feeling, and THAT is what has always had me hooked on Silent Hill.
A proper meal later and we were parting ways as I began the long trek across no less than four towns to take Maria home. Thankfully she'd already agreed to let me crash on her futon so I wouldn't have to make that ridiculous drive back and we could hang out and watch Constantine (which I'm fond of showing to everyone I know). Sadly, having gotten up for work at 4am, Maria didn't last more than a third of the movie. I turned it off and have left the DVD with her to watch at her leisure and politely prodded her from the floor to her bed, surprised, but impressed that she was calling it a night so early (at about 9:30) when I know that she has a habit of forsaking sleep or making due for weeks at a time with 3 to maybe 4 hours a night. All things considered, I guess it isn't such a surprise that I was woken a couple hours later at 1:30am as I heard her phone ring and she answered it from her bedroom. Eavesdropping on half of a slightly confused conversation later and I was rolling off the futon to try and find my socks. It turns out a couple of her friends were drunk and stranded in Seattle after having missed the last bus home. Maria was proving to be a better friend than I as she told them she'd be there shortly to bring them home. I wanted to roll over and go back to sleep (I myself have a habit of skipping a couple hours of sleep every night, so the thought of catching up over the weekend was pretty tempting), but I wasn't about to let her make a ridiculously long drive into the city alone, exhausted, and right about the time of last call. Turns out I didn't have much choice as when we got to the garage we simultaneously recalled that her car had been parked back in Redmond at Great Harvest.
Sunday
A proper meal later and we were parting ways as I began the long trek across no less than four towns to take Maria home. Thankfully she'd already agreed to let me crash on her futon so I wouldn't have to make that ridiculous drive back and we could hang out and watch Constantine (which I'm fond of showing to everyone I know). Sadly, having gotten up for work at 4am, Maria didn't last more than a third of the movie. I turned it off and have left the DVD with her to watch at her leisure and politely prodded her from the floor to her bed, surprised, but impressed that she was calling it a night so early (at about 9:30) when I know that she has a habit of forsaking sleep or making due for weeks at a time with 3 to maybe 4 hours a night. All things considered, I guess it isn't such a surprise that I was woken a couple hours later at 1:30am as I heard her phone ring and she answered it from her bedroom. Eavesdropping on half of a slightly confused conversation later and I was rolling off the futon to try and find my socks. It turns out a couple of her friends were drunk and stranded in Seattle after having missed the last bus home. Maria was proving to be a better friend than I as she told them she'd be there shortly to bring them home. I wanted to roll over and go back to sleep (I myself have a habit of skipping a couple hours of sleep every night, so the thought of catching up over the weekend was pretty tempting), but I wasn't about to let her make a ridiculously long drive into the city alone, exhausted, and right about the time of last call. Turns out I didn't have much choice as when we got to the garage we simultaneously recalled that her car had been parked back in Redmond at Great Harvest.
Not having the room to taxi three more people (legally) in my truck, we drove to Redmond, nabbed her car and headed for the city. Neither of us had ever been very familiar with Seattle, nor did either of us have very much luck navigating the strangely inbred roadwork and drastic elevation shifts. An hour of wandering and u-turns later and we finally found the street we were looking for (although, from the wrong direction), at which point Maria got her friends on the phone and refused to let them off it again until they were in the car. At some point during this evening they had composed a little theme song for Maria that I don't know if I'm allowed to repeat here without her permission, but it was cute and the creativity shone through the alcohol levels. Another hour, a couple of requests for cheeseburgers, and some cheesy techno music later everyone was finally back where they were supposed to be, and I could finally pass back out on the futon.
Sunday
By the time my phone woke me up the next morning Maria had risen and gone to church (she was singing in the choir that morning) leaving me to tidy up and depart to catch up with the boys up North. When I finally arrived (walking in to witness Steak playing Kingdom Hearts II, which I desperately want to get my hands on) they were preparing to head out for lunch at Buca de Bepo, an Italian restaurant that serves groups, not individuals. Every dish on their menu is meant for 2 to 8 people, so with a party of six, 2 dishes and an appetizer were all we needed.
During the meal Steak got a call from the office requesting his presence. We already knew Peter was spending most of the weekend there (Handheld having multiple milestones impending), so were definitely planning to stop by and harass them on the way out of town. He dropped off Will to say good-bye to Katie (and to borrow Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince from her for me, "Thank you, Katie!") and dropped me at Mike's apartment where our stuff and my truck were waiting to be packed up. On my way up to the door, however, I noticed something odd about my truck. My camper shell was lopsided. Popping the back and taking a look inside I found the explanation and a reasonable concern... Some months ago, in an attempt to take the shell off Will, Chris, AND I had spent almost an hour removing the four screws that I thought were holding it in place. When they were all out I found the shell still wouldn't come off. Prodding the edges I realized that what I thought had been simple cushioning was actually some sort of film sealant that effectively glued the shell to the bed. Disheartened, I began putting the bolts back but after considerable strain decided "fuckit, this thing ain't goin' anywhere" halfway through the third one. Well, apparently time, weather, and a couple hundred miles of high speed winds had decided that it WOULD eventually go somewhere as only one of the screws was intact, another was bent horribly as the shell had slid, and the third was missing altogether. Suddenly I had concerns about driving all the way back home in such a state. After performing a couple of shoulder checks on my vehicle to knock the shell back into alignment, I moved the bent screw to another slot where it would keep it from sliding (too much) as I drove up the hill to the Wal-Mart and found a couple similar screws and a couple of C-clamps, just as an extra precaution that would take us home. Now that I know its finally loose, I'm going to pop it off sometime this week and finally give the truck bed a proper hosing as I give my poor baby a much overdue car wash. I like the fact that I now have a garage I can comfortably store it in and drive around without it for a while.
During the meal Steak got a call from the office requesting his presence. We already knew Peter was spending most of the weekend there (Handheld having multiple milestones impending), so were definitely planning to stop by and harass them on the way out of town. He dropped off Will to say good-bye to Katie (and to borrow Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince from her for me, "Thank you, Katie!") and dropped me at Mike's apartment where our stuff and my truck were waiting to be packed up. On my way up to the door, however, I noticed something odd about my truck. My camper shell was lopsided. Popping the back and taking a look inside I found the explanation and a reasonable concern... Some months ago, in an attempt to take the shell off Will, Chris, AND I had spent almost an hour removing the four screws that I thought were holding it in place. When they were all out I found the shell still wouldn't come off. Prodding the edges I realized that what I thought had been simple cushioning was actually some sort of film sealant that effectively glued the shell to the bed. Disheartened, I began putting the bolts back but after considerable strain decided "fuckit, this thing ain't goin' anywhere" halfway through the third one. Well, apparently time, weather, and a couple hundred miles of high speed winds had decided that it WOULD eventually go somewhere as only one of the screws was intact, another was bent horribly as the shell had slid, and the third was missing altogether. Suddenly I had concerns about driving all the way back home in such a state. After performing a couple of shoulder checks on my vehicle to knock the shell back into alignment, I moved the bent screw to another slot where it would keep it from sliding (too much) as I drove up the hill to the Wal-Mart and found a couple similar screws and a couple of C-clamps, just as an extra precaution that would take us home. Now that I know its finally loose, I'm going to pop it off sometime this week and finally give the truck bed a proper hosing as I give my poor baby a much overdue car wash. I like the fact that I now have a garage I can comfortably store it in and drive around without it for a while.
Before we finally hit I-5, Will and I did pop over to Handheld games to catch up with the crew in crunch mode, trade some stories, and try to plan our next visit. It was a nice way to cap off a pretty good trip. The biggest shame is what a pain it is to head up and down to Seattle, otherwise I think we'd do it more. Taking my truck means that with the current gas prices, fuel alone is going to cost us $100. I also prefer to drive the whole way because I fear for my poor old truck, and if something should go wrong, I want to be the one behind the wheel when it does. I love my baby, and I hope she lasts me another 10 years, but I'd better be ready for the worst. She's already hurt me at the worst possible time before. You may forgive, but you can never forget something like that. So we'll see how we're standing when Katie and Peter's birthdays roll around in May. I'll be staring down the face of my own, but by then, at least I'll be staring it down with my own two eyes. Again, I think that's a story for another evening. Thank you, Seattle, for a wonderful weekend. And thanks to everyone who made it worth driving 6 hours to be there in the first place. Until again!
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