Ultra-caffinated

Fate recently poked me in the shoulder and insisted that I take a pilgrimage. An entire year had gone by without me traveling by plane--a new record for me--and the world was becoming unhinged. I had to restore the cosmic balance and hit the skies before Destiny took better aim and jabbed me in the eye instead.

I decided to venture to the Mecca of Mochas, the Garage of Grunge, the Bastion of Boeing itself: Seattle. My decision and Fate's poking might have been influenced just slightly by my parents, who live just south of that grand city, but it's best not to look too closely at these things. It ruins the magic of the universe.

No journey of atonement is complete without a little suffering, so the powers that be made sure that my trip took me through the lovely Salt Lake City airport, where I got to spend eight hours of penance. Not only was the entire building permeated with a Burger King grease smell, but a TV set to CNN was placed every five steps so there was no escaping the non-stop coverage of the Pope's visit to New York.

I'm sorry I haven't been to church in a very long time, but Purgatory is supposed to come much later.

Ahh, but relief for my pounding headache (grease smell + CNN + boarding announcements + do not leave your baggage unattended/report suspicious behavior/security threat orange/you deserve every bit of this suffering announcements = brain pain) was available. Starbucks, just down the stairs in Terminal E (you can ride the moving sidewalks to the escalator if you're tired), provided a latte full of caffinated goodness.

When I finally arrived at my Pacific Northwestern destination, it only seemed appropriate to give thanks to those makers of strong coffee by procuring an overpriced drink in the first ever Starbucks. My mom and I walked around downtown, passing no fewer than three coffee shops in some blocks. But Tully's was right out. Seattle's Best, while they have an excellent roast named after a cat--Henry's blend, can't be bad--was not on the agenda. Independent cafes weren't on my to-do list. My tour guide said "Original Starbucks", and nothing else would do.


Many other people obviously felt the same way, since the line stretched nearly out the door. Silly, really, that such a ubiquitous product could create a tourist trap, but that particular Starbucks must be one of the most profitable for the company. It had no seats or tables, so was hardly cozy, but it was mobbed. A group of buskers were singing outside, to make the wait more enjoyable. My latte was good, but I drank it in a city park down the street to get out of the way.



Fate, after dumping more punishment in the form of snow, hail, and sleet (in Seattle, in April. There were cherry blossoms and tulips out, but no spring is allowed for this Wyomingite), decided to relent. My journey home was smooth and trouble-free.

But I know better than to stay put for too long.