Concert in the Big City

I'm behind in the writing I want to do on the First Whisper . . .  but I spent most of the weekend in Seattle. Craig had a gig playing a concert with one of our favorite bands on Saturday night.  We left our house at 12:30 to catch the 1 PM ferry in order to get to the Big City to the South by 3 PM.  It was foggy all the way down the freeway, and here I'd thought the fog was just an island thing.  Craig unloaded his bass guitar and amp at the stage door and I got a big hug from Chris, then Sue, then made myself at home in one of the cushy seats in the theatre.  The crew and band did sound checks, light checks and endless other kinds of checks.  Meanwhile I worked on tightening up my query letter and pitch, editing a friend's business plan ("Kristen's Kitchen: Local Whole-Foods Fast Meal Planning") and reading a hundred pages or so of Amy Tan's new novel Saving Fish from Drowning (which I am enjoying immensely).  I ate a bit of dinner with Craig backstage and met the drummer and his wife, who are both interested in sustainable building practices. We invited them to come up sometime to see our straw bale house.  Craig's sister and brother-in-law arrived about 7 PM and I let them inside the theatre early so we could visit.  Her eyes kept widening at the sight of so many tattooed, pierced and androgynous-looking people so I just had to tease her.  "You're dressed a little conservatively, Cindy.  Everyone's looking at you!"  She was a bit alarmed until I told her I was just joking.  (Not really though.)   I ran into Chavala as people started flowing into the auditorium and got a big hug from her.  Always nice to see a fellow blogger in the flesh. 

Well the show was a killer.  Just outstanding. The band was hot, the theater packed, the crowd wildly enthusiastic.  Who could ask for more?  Chris ranted more than usual, but then the elections are coming up.  I loved watching my sweetie on stage, admiring his moves. I always do.  Craig's sister, brother-in-law and nephew were the first on their feet whooping and clapping and calling for more.  So a grand time, I'd say, was had by all.

Slowly, the audience left, the crew dismantled the set and sound equipment, gear was stashed away in various vehicles and plans were made to go to breakfast.  Band, crew, friends and family took over the local Dennys, that time-honored choice of musicians wanting a meal in the middle of the night.  Or was it Shari's?  I can't remember. It was way past my bedtime.  The waitress was cheerful and helpful and gracious at 2:00 in the morning.  "Give that woman a big tip!" I told Craig.  "She works hard for the money . . ."  He did.

Finally we were on the road again, in a light rain, following our friends to their house in a small town north of Seattle.  Chris and Craig made up the bed at the top of the stairs and I fell into it, barely taking the time to undress.  Every time I woke up during the night (and morning), "Secret of the Crossroads Devil" was going through my head.  Nice.  I slept until 11 AM.  A record for me.  It happens once, maybe, every five years.  (Have I mentioned I'm an early bird, married to a night owl?) The four of us had a good visit over tea for the guys and coffee for the women, then we hit the road and headed home.   

We ate breakfast at, um, 2 PM I think, at the Calico Cupboard (whole grain bread! yea!), rooted around at the best independent bookstore in Skagit County and arrived at the dock in time for the 4:10 ferry.  We were deep into our books when we realized the ferry was still on the island side and had been for a half hour.  It was off schedule.  So we deduced, along with everyone else in line, that either the power was out and something was wrong with the island dock machinery, or there was a medical emergency, or . . . who knew?   Finally the ferry came over to our side, cars disembarked and we loaded up.   We arrived with no problem at the island side, then realized that unloading was not going to be an option.  The ramp was not moving.  First one crew member climbed up the dock to investigate the machinery, then another, then the pilot.   Apparently the power was out, the generator didn't kick in and they weren't able to lower the dock manually.  High tide, unfortunately, was ebbing away.  So there we were, twenty cars or so bobbing away on the docked ferry in a misty rain.  What was there to do but relax, visit with neighbors, and watch the drama unfold?  After about an hour, the crew was able to close the gap between the deck of the ferry and the ramp up the dock, but the incline was still quite steep.  Carefully, carefully, each car inched up the ramp and made it onto solid ground again.  We walked in our door around 6:15 PM. 

Ah, island living. 

It's good to be home.