 Again heading north, Nick and Sarah were going to see what funky engagement rings Seattle, Washington had to offer. The city itself was so cool, they figured the jewelry would be as well. They first planned to stop in Olympia to check out the Olympia Film Society’s Cine-X, then continue on. Sarah was driving well over the designated speed limit, and they were listening to Soundgarden to put them in a Seattle state of mind. Grunge music was at the forefront of the indie music scene when Nick and Sarah were in their musical formative years, and they both had the flannel shirts to prove it. They were listening to Soundgarden because Sarah was driving, and the one driving always picked the music. Nick was more of a Nirvana fan when it came to that musical genre, but he didn’t mind. He had a feeling that she chose the Louder Than Love CD because it would make her drive even faster. “You wanna slow down, Danica?” Nick asked. “I realize that you’re on a pilgrimage here, but let’s not kill ourselves. It’s counter-productive.” Sarah looked at the speedometer. It seemed to say ’95’. She let up on the gas a bit. She glanced at Nick and then patted the dashboard of the Jeep. “She handles well, this girl,” Sarah said. “She’s getting me closer and closer to my idol.” Sarah’s idol was, of course, Tom Robbins, her favorite author of all-time. She thought everything he did was genius. She owned all of his books, and would buy copies for people rather than lend out the ones she had ear-marked (paperbacks) or flagged (hardcovers). For her, the release of a new Tom Robbins book was better than any holiday. She also had any book in which he was quoted, or wrote the foreword. “You know,” Nick told her, “that it is unlikely that you will see him. It’s about as likely as us spotting Bigfoot.” Sarah shrugged. “Both are known to dwell in the Pacific Northwest,” she said dryly. “First, though, we see Olympia. Get out the Hole CD, will you, Nicky? I want some Courtney Love in honor of our visit to Olympia.” She sang along the whole way, which was not, necessarily, a good thing. Nicky cringed at a few of her attempts at high notes, but chose not to say anything. It certainly wasn’t anything he hadn’t observed about his beloved’s singing voice before. When they arrived at the Capitol Theater in Olympia, they were just in time to pick up their tickets for ‘Cine-X, a collection of odd short films and video from all over the world. It was the performance art of movies. Nick read from the brochure as they walked in. “’This celebrates the work of those who defy industry conventions, pushing the boundaries of expression, content and form through film and video.’” He paused. “This is going to be a freak show, isn’t it?” “I’m sure,” Sarah told him. “But it won’t be the first of our trip.” “Ain’t that the truth,” Nick said as they went into the theater and found seats. They spent the next few hours watching the strange perspectives of various filmmakers and performance artists unfold in front of them. “We’re not high, are we?” Sarah whispered. “No, thank God.” Nick responded. “I think my head would explode.” As they walked out of theater and into the early evening light, they didn’t speak for a few minutes. “I wish someone could photograph us right now,” Nick told Sarah. “If my face looks anything like yours right now, it would be very funny.” “I’m just confused. I guess I don’t get a lot of that stuff. I feel like I should, but I don’t.” Sarah pulled her jacket closed and moved closer to Nick. “Maybe next year, we should photograph everyone as they come out of the theater, then put it to music and show it on the last day.” Nick put his arm around her. “I had no idea you aspired to be an avant-garde artist,” he said. Sarah thought for a minute. “I guess I really don’t,” she said. They got back in the Jeep and continued on to Seattle, where they were staying at what they were told was a cool downtown hotel. Nick had programmed Bob for 1926 2nd Avenue, Seattle, WA, 98101. They arrived at the Moore Hotel and were immediately impressed. It was immensely cool looking. After checking in, they walked down to the Pike Place Market. Although the evening was cool, Sarah wore a tank top under her jacket. She had plans for the market that night. Nick and Sarah started out for the Tasting Room—Wines of Washington. Sarah got distracted by shops and ended up at Lid Wear trying on hats for a while. After looking at herself in everything from rain hats to formal hats, she settled on a feminine version of a fisherman’s hat. It seemed to go with the brisk Seattle weather. She bought it, and they set off for the Tasting Room at 1924 Post Alley, Seattle, Washington 98101. Feeling like they had developed a bit of expertise on the West Coast wines, they jumped right into sampling. The space was modeled on a real European wine cave, and was immensely cool just to be in. After trying a few ounces of wines from each different local winery, they settled on glasses of the Latitude 46 North 2002 “Vindication”, which was a blend of 70% merlot, 26% cabernet sauvignon and 4% syrah. “I’ve never heard of wineries mixing it up like this,” Sarah said in a loud whisper, leaning on Nick. As Nick took another sip, he said, “It’s really amazing. But you know you don’t have to swig it. More is available.” Sarah kissed him sloppily on the cheek and handed her empty wine glass. “Then fill ‘er up, baby,” she told him. They each had another glass and they left with Sarah giggling all the way. “Where next?” Nick asked her. Sarah stood behind him, put his hands on his lower back and pushed to steer him. He leaned back and told her, “You’re drunk.” “Nah,” Sarah told him. “I’m just in a good mood,” she whispered in his ear. “And maybe a little buzzed.” They could hear the noise coming from Pike Place Fish Market long before they got there. Sarah took her hands off of Nick so she could take off her jacket. Tying it around her waist, she grabbed Nick by the hand and dragged him the rest of the way. People were standing all around, watching the famous fishmongers famously throwing huge fish to each other. There was noise and singing and it seemed to be the best party in town, but with the worst smell. Sarah pushed her way to the front and stood near one of the guys who worked there. She was looking straight at a salmon that seemed to be looking straight back at her. They locked eyes for a second, it seemed, until the guy working looked at her in her little tank top and yelled over the crowd to her. “See anything you like?” He asked. Sarah looked back at him. “That fish likes me,” she said. “He wants me to throw him.” They guy yelled even louder, “This little lady wants to be a fishmonger!” He got the attention of a few of his co-workers. One of them grabbed some of the fish-wrapping paper and got in position to catch. Sarah reached for the 12-pound fish that was looking at her. “You sure you don’t want to start a little smaller?” The guy asked. She smiled. “Watch me work,” she said, and picked the salmon up. She fumbled it a little, and had to catch it like a football, getting herself all covered in icy fish-juice. Everyone around her laughed and cheered and then starting singing again. She grabbed the fish the way she had watched them doing earlier, then hurled the fish towards the waiting fishmonger. He had to scurry a bit to catch it since her aim wasn’t dead-on, but everyone cheered anyway.
The guy next to her looked around to see if anyone else wanted to try. Sarah pushed him a little. “I can do better,” she told him. Again, he shouted. “She wants to try again!” This was definitely more for the audience than his co-workers, but it did make the same guy behind the counter get ready again. This time, the guy handed her a slightly—but not much—smaller salmon. She reared back and let it fly. This time, she hit the paper target. Throwing her arms in the air and doing a little victory dance, she turned around to give Nick a big hug. After she let go, she realized that they were now both covered in icy fish juice. She smiled and kissed him. She spoke again to the guy working. “I think we need a couple of long-sleeved t-shirts,” she told him. He laughed and pointed her towards the counter where the souvenir shirts were kept clean and dry. Nick and Sarah put the shirts on immediately. She high-fived the guy who helped her with her fish-tossing, and then grabbed Nick’s clean hand with her fishy one. They walked back to the hotel, where they showered for an unusually long time because they continually smelled salmon, no matter how much they scrubbed. They eventually gave up and went to sleep. In the morning, they got coffee at the hotel and then walked just up the street to a funky jewelry store/art gallery. The place had all pieces by local artists, and by one in particular, the woman who owned the store. They saw that they could call or email for custom design appointments, but hadn’t, so they went in to check out what she already had. Her designs were all very quirky, with words engraved and almost all of her work had a hand-made look—clearly hammered metals and charmingly-imperfect framing to the stones. The owner, who was also working in the shop at the time, offered to help them.
“We’re looking for an engagement ring,” Sarah told her. “How great!” The woman bubbled. “Let me show you what I have.” She led Nick and Sarah to a case and took out a few rings, asking, “Do you prefer any certain metal?” “Platinum or white gold,” Sarah said. “I look awful in yellow gold.” “I seriously doubt that,” the woman said, “but take a look at these.” She arranged a display of beautiful rings, all amazing and beautiful and, seemingly, unique. Because they were already displayed in the store, Sarah knew they were not unique, but they were, most certainly, rare. She put on a platinum ring with a diamond embedded in the thick, hammered band. It was very cool, the kind of ring she would want to just wear. Engraved on the opposite side of the band was “bride-to-be”. Then she tried on another platinum ring that had several different types of gems, including a few colored diamonds in it. It was gorgeous and funky, certainly. The woman walked away to let them discuss their choices. “I love this stuff,” Sarah said. “But nothing about it feels like engagement rings. You know I’m not traditional, Nicky…” she paused. “But these are way beyond non-traditional,” Nick finished. “On the other hand, I like this one,” he said as he pointed to a matte-silver ring with one black stone embedded in it. When the woman came back, Nick tried the ring on. It fit, and it wasn’t expensive. “It isn’t what we came in looking for,” Nick said, “but I’ve been hunting for suitable man-jewelry, and it isn’t easy to find,” he told her. “I hear that a lot,” the woman said. Nick paid for his ring and they left. Nick and Sarah walked from there down to the pier, where they caught a harbor cruise. They got to see the city skyline, including the famous Space Needle and the mountain ranges in the distance. Of course, it was overcast, as it was rumored to be 226 days a year, but it was nonetheless beautiful. Even though it was a little chilly, they stayed on deck. “The air is so clean,” Sarah commented as she played with the new ring on Nick’s finger. “Pretty amazing,” Nick responded, and held her closer to keep her warm. When they docked, Sarah was almost in a sprint to get to the Jeep. They had about an hour and half of driving to get to La Conner, where Tom Robbins lived. Even though his address was, inexplicably, not kept secret, they headed for a place where he was rumored to eat often, and where there was a “Writer Sandwich” named for him. This was the Rexville Grocery in Mt. Vernon. It was like an old-fashioned soda fountain with a deli and groceries, but they also carried gourmet foods and wines and had wine-tastings, antique sales, and other events there. Sarah was so excited to be there that she wasn’t even disappointed that they wouldn’t be there for a “Bargain Beer Friday”, when local brewpubs would feature their beers for $2.50 a glass. Sarah was busy rubber-necking, hoping to get a glimpse of her hero, so Nick ordered for her. They each got a cup of organic coffee and the Writer’s Sandwich—Tuna, Mayonnaise, and kim chee. Tom Robbins was known to be a big fan of kim chee. They took their lunches and went to sit on one of the park benches outside. “I read an interview with him,” Sarah told Nick, “and he was sitting right out here.” As she bit into her sandwich, Sarah realized for the first time that she was NOT such a big fan of kim chee. But she was going to eat it, because Tom Robbins did. She inhaled deeply. “This is the coolest place, ever,” she said. Nick looked around, at the store alongside a busy highway, with cars whizzing by. It didn’t mean the same thing to him. “We’re going to be here a while, aren’t we?” Nick asked. “They sell wine by the bottle and we’ve got glasses,” Sarah said, smiling. “What do YOU think?”
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