April 29, 1999 |
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Hey. Jorell Sand just reminded me of your little website I am in. Adventures of Ms. Feinerhosen. Cool. I want to start submitting again. So without a further ado, let me present Jamison Barry. Remember the guy I refer to as Alabama? He's a true blue Alabama southern gentleman. With the accent to boot. I love AL. Great guy with a great mind. So here's a story AL wrote for me recently. I hope you enjoy his mind too. Morning Blue, By the time you read this I will already be on someones deck, working away. Then again I may be on my way home due to the chance of showers. Must say I do love showers, and what better city to experience the most showers than Seattle. Oh and by the way they are just showers. You and I have experiences that give us the ability to distinguish between a real rain and just a shower, unlike many of my co-workers, who at the patter of the first drop declare "It's raining". Speaking of showers I had the pleasure, if not some discomfort of riding my bike in a Seattle shower this past Sunday morn. I left Eric and Marian's apartment, oh around 9:30ish. I became rather wet within the first several blocks, my skin turned to goose flesh as the water and the wind washed over me. The cold upon me subsided some as my speed decreased for my ascent up Denny Way on to Madrona. I heard the click, click of my bike as I shift down to attack the hill, mixed in with that sound wet tires make on wet pavement, and Hooverphonic's gentle throbbing bass lines. Made it to the top of the hill, legs burning from the exersion it took to over come that hill and others I had faced earlier that weekend. My speed increased, round the bend and down the other side of the big hill. As I made my descent to Lake Washington BLVD I experienced the big chill. Increased speed=increased wind + wet body + 40 degree temps = one cold Bama Boy. Never happier to actually slow down. Mostly level ground along the BLVD, I became somewhat warmer but the steady shower continued to invade me. My shirt became soaked, along with my shorts and underwear, I had a real case of the wet ass. The lake was dark and the sky was gray, the Eastside was shrouded in mist. As I passed through Leschi, the urge to pull over and get out of the shower became strong, but I resisted and stayed in the saddle. Passed by trees that had what looked like a dusting of white and pink snow, no just blooms past their prime. Passed by Stan Seyers's Pits where rowers and kayaker's had come to congregate. Made my turn up 51st Street, almost there one last hill to tackle. I splashed through puddles, no reason to avoid now, what was I going to get more wet. Water poured off my tires as I split the puddle in two, covered my shoes. I made it to the top of my hill, back to the place I call home. Parked the bike, shimmied out of my wet clothing, toweled off a bit, then preceded to take a nice hot shower. Sqeaky clean, warm and dry, comfortable clothes, and a day of rest ahead. Man I love this city and all its many faces. Just think I spent Saturday in warm 70 degree sunlight, followed the next day by that. I definitely think you have to try to appreciate all aspects to enjoy this city to its fullest. Guten Tag to the woman who gives the drawings life. AL |
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