Girl Stories from Seattle

For all the guys who have emailed me wanting me to share more stories about my girl-related escapades, the following recap of my last two nights in Seattle is for you...

Saturday night I went out to the one full time lesbian bar in Seattle and as I walked in, immediately noticed this table of hot femmes checking me out. After about an hour of checking each other out, I finally went over and said hi. Turns out the two hottest girls (one blond and one brunette) are both professional dancers (and both swedish), so we started talking about modern dance and the next thing I knew they were demanding that I show them my best martha graham moves, which I did...to some hip hop song...in the middle of this lesbian bar with all these super butch girls with facial piercing and multi-colored hair looking at me like I was the crazy one.... At any rate, the hot dancers were duly impressed with my little modern dance show and proceeded to drag me to the dance floor promising to teach me some complicated swing moves so I can blow the kids away at my sister's wedding this fall.

It didn't take long (3 martinis at the most) before I got caught in a bit of a tug of war between the two hotties, with the brunette grabbing me and pulling me back from the blond every time the blond pulled me away to teach me a move, promising to teach me "a better one." Eventually the brunette's persistence won out and we ended up back at my hotel (after she ran off the blond and jumped in my cab uninvited). However, by the time we got there, I was totally over this girl (after spending the entire cab ride fending her off while explaining to her that I don't really like aggressive girls) and I broke it to her that she wasn't coming up to my room with me, which did not go over well at all (the recap: crazy girl clings to me all the way through the lobby begging me to let her come up to my room, then pretends to be okay with leaving before spinning on her heel and taking a flying leap onto my elevator just before the doors closed so she could get up to my floor). When she sat down in the hall on my floor and refused to leave for the tenth time, I decided to go for a little walk hoping she would be gone when I got back.

Just when I was coming back after a 30min tour of downtown seattle at 3am, this girl comes walking out, sees me and starts sprinting towards me screaming, "why are you doing this to me???" "I think I could fall in love with you!!!" "Just talk to me!!!" um, yeah, I spent the next 5mins sprinting through downtown with this girl chasing after me, screaming her case about how "amazing we could be together" until I finally got far enough ahead of her that I could dart down an alley without her seeing, which I did and stayed hidden behind a garbage can there for 20mins before I worked up the courage to check the street for any sign of her. When it seemed like the coast was clear, I worked my way back to my hotel along a totally obscure route, poking my head around each corner to check for her before I proceeded. Good times...

As for last night, I went back to the same bar (because I like to live dangerously) and ended up telling this whole story to this really cute (and seemingly sane) girl sitting next to me. When she finally stopped laughing, she insisted on buying a bourbon for each of us and invited me to move outside to the patio with her. While we were out there, this pack of girls, including a few that we had been talking to inside, stopped by to tell us they were going to another bar. The conversation quickly turned to my blog and how I had to go to Portland and do a little tour of those establishments that Portland is so famous for. I told them I had seen what Portland had to offer and wasn't impressed. After a 3min summary of all the disappointing establishments I had been to, a hottie in the back of the pack outed herself as a dancer (to the shock of her friends who had no idea) and offered to come to my hotel and give me the greatest LD of my life. Then she started rattling off in great detail all the tricks she could do (more than a few involved placement and removal of lollipops with no hands). Tough call...the smart, cute, wholesome, idealistic, law school bound girl...or your very own private dancer? In the end, I stuck with my sweet non-dancer (though I got the private dancer's number just in case) and I was glad I did because it turned out that she had some pretty fabulous tricks too...she just wasn't the kind of girl who would brag about them...

Portland to Seattle with my Planet-9 Posse

Just sharing some pics of our fantastic group drive yesterday that took me from Portland to Seattle. I met up with this posse of guys (and a couple wives), who have been following my blog on Planet-9, just over the river in Vancouver, WA. Then we headed south on 5 to pick up 26 west, which we took to 103 to 202 west into Astoria OR, where we grabbed lunch and saw the Astoria Column. Then we picked up the 101 and took it up to 8 east, which we took into Olympia for a quick photo op at the capital before finally splitting up in Tacoma so we could all get home before dark. Awesome drive, awesome day.

Beef Jerky!!! Someone is following my beef jerky and push-up recipe for body perfection, but I won't mention any names...

I asked for a top removal demonstration (the car kind, not the other kind). Have to say this car is beyond sexy and the sport exhaust sounded amazing, but I wouldn't want to be putting this top on in the rain on the side of the road by myself, um, ever....

We briefly contemplated negotiating a group rate for oral surgery, but in the end decided to just get on the road.

Passed our adorable little vintage friend on the road and he joined our posse for a while. Best view I have had in my rearview mirror this whole trip, nothing but a train of beautiful Porsches behind me with this guy bringing up the rear. I will never forget that view.

At Astoria Column. I would show you a pic of the column, but our cars are so much prettier...

Chasing down my boys while taking their picture--Safety first!

About to put down my camera and burst past them both, not just because I am a compulsively competitive little bastard with more horsepower, but also because I was the only one with a K40 and I'm thoughtful like that...

Made it to Olympia just as the sun was going down. As soon as we parked (where we totally weren't allowed to be) this trooper swooped up and started questioning us. None of the guys seemed to know what to say, so I took the lead and explained that we were "on a roadtrip." The trooper nodded and responded, "roadtrip, huh? Make it quick" and drove off.  If there is one thing I have learned on this trip, it is that if you are ever potentially in trouble with the law, just tell the law that you are on a roadtrip. Seriously, whatever it is-felony reckless driving, dui, illegal trespassing...just tell them you are on a roadtrip and the response will no doubt be something like, "roadtrip huh? Why didn't you say so?" every single time...

Mendocino to Portland

I am in Portland now. I left foggy, rainy Mendocino yesterday morning headed for Eureka (via Rt.1 to the 101). When I got to Eureka (where I was contemplating spending the night), the rain had picked up and wasn't supposed to let up until this afternoon, so (after some barbequed oysters and chowder) I decided to keep trucking to Portland (via 101 up the coast to 199 east through Six Rivers Nat'l Forest to 5) so I could get here one night earlier than planned and be in the same hotel for two nights in a row. A very exciting notion these days...totally worth twelve hours of driving in the pouring rain. The rain was coming down so hard for the last few hours before I hit Portland that I couldn't see the road most of the time, but I just kept telling myself, if there is a big truck in front of me (blinding me with water spray), I must be in a lane...

This afternoon I visited the Lan Su Chinese Garden and had Jamaica on the brain the entire time I was there, mostly because while I resisted the "flower freak" label she tried to stick me with our final night together, I can't really deny it anymore. My moment of truth was at the Peony blossom exhibit when I found myself taking close-ups of my favorite blossoms without anyone forcing me to. When Jamaica and I were on the road together, I was all about my scenic and/or car shots and would only take close-ups of blossoms when Jamaica dragged me over by my elbow and made me do it.

As I took shot after shot of my favorite blossoms this afternoon, I couldn't help remembering our last night together when we rolled in the door around midnight (after the showdown with ice, ice baby) and I immediately sat down in her living room and started tearing through each of her flower books to come up with the names of the only two flowers we had seen our entire trip that she didn't know the names of. After I had done my frenzied page flipping through one book, then another, then another, I looked over and saw a fourth flower book in her lap and said (probably with a little crazy in my eyes), "are you done with that? Can I have that? I need to look at that." She looked over at me slowly with one eyebrow raised and said, "well, my dear, I think you've become a bit of a flower freak." To which I immediately responded (enjoying a nice big scoop of denial with a little bit of rationalizing sprinkled on top), "No, I'm not! You're the flower freak around here, not me. I'm just a curious person. I just don't like not knowing things." Prompting her to inquire (still studying my slightly crazed face with one eyebrow raised), "Really, sweetie? Really? Because you seem very much like a flower freak to me. You look like a flower freak (gesturing to the flower books strewn around me), you're acting like a flower freak (I think she was basing this on my refusal to go to bed until I figured out the names)..."

Finally, I cracked (though I told myself I was just appeasing her), "Fine, fine, I'm a flower freak. Now will you just help me? Please?" Satisfied that she had made her point she took a couple of the books back and we spent over an hour reading through them all to no avail because these two flowers weren't in any of the books. We finally gave up and went to bed, but first thing in the morning she got the names from a friend...because she's devoted like that. So, I am posting two pics of my two favorite peony blossoms because I know they will put a smile on her face...and because, thanks to Jamaica, I am a certifiable (probably in more ways than one) flower freak.

Hall of Brocade Clouds (houses the Peony exhibit)

Peonies and Poetry

More Peonies...

"Cora Louise"

"Color Magnet"

For those of you who prefer redwoods to peonies, this is the redwood I drove through in Leggett...

...and these are some redwoods that I drove past as I worked my way through the Prairie Creek Redwoods State Park (via scenic old 101 north of Orick)

On the 101 somewhere between Eureka and Crescent City (where I picked up 199)

San Francisco to Napa to Mendocino

Just walked into my hotel in Mendocino and definitely feel like I walked into an episode of Murder She Wrote. From the rocky coastal scenery outside that I grew up seeing on that show every week to the clusters of elderly locals, all bundled up in wooly sweaters, having cocktails at the bar while they gossip in hushed voices...it's pretty surreal. I have to say though, that I still don't understand how it never seemed to bother people through all those seasons of Murder She Wrote that the ocean was on the wrong side of the coastal scenes. The sun doesn't set over the ocean in Maine, kids (in no small part because the ocean is off the east coast of Maine). Never has, never will. You heard it here first.

Now that I got that off my chest, let's back up. I ended up spending an extra night in San Francisco and after hitting Cafe Tartine in the mission Tuesday morning, where I had the greatest ham and cheese croissant I have ever had (there are no words...), I headed for Napa.

By the time I checked into a B&B in town and headed out to do a couple tastings, I was starving. So, I hit V. Sattui first because I heard it had a great deli, which it does, though the wines I tasted were unremarkable. Then I made a pilgrimage to Charles Krug (where Robert and Peter Mondavi both started out before their big feud sent Robert packing). I was glad to hear that they made up in '06, two years before Robert passed away. As for the wine, I tasted about 7 Family Reserve and Limited Release wines (all reds) and they were all interesting and high quality, but none of them really measured up to my favorite Italian wines (example--'99 Barbi Brunello Di Montalcino--I like my reds fairly dry and acidic with just as much emphasis on earthiness as fruitiness and I only like a really full bodied wine if the body factor is all about packing in as many nuances as possible rather than simplistic heaviness in the mouth). That said, my favorite wine at Krug was the 2006 Limited Release X Clones (100% cabernet, only 450 cases produced) because it had such a smooth and refined, but very firm, structure and a nice acidity that genuinely made me wish I had a steak to go with it. The only California wines that I like as much as my favorite Italian wines (and a couple French--not many French faves though because so many good French wines are overpriced, particularly compared to their Italian counterparts) are from Shafer, but their tastings are booked at least a month in advance, so doing a tasting at Shafer was not an option because I am not remotely that organized.

Today, after pounding a couple iced coffees and a scone at Napa Valley Coffee Roasters (great coffee), I headed to Mumm to do a sparkling wine tasting. I was going to hit Beringer for a tasting too, but it never happened because I was having too much fun at Mumm sipping 5 different sparkling wines on a beautiful sunny patio looking over the vineyards while munching on dried fruit and nuts and crackers and returning a big chunk of calls that needed returning. I also strolled through this great photography exhibit they have up until the end of September--Paris Icons by James Scholz, which made me miss Paris so much that I renewed my little vow to myself that I would get there twice a year no matter what.  I was there for a week in March (seems so long ago), so I just have to get there once more this year to be in good standing with myself.

After I left Napa, I made my way to Mendocino via 116 through the Russian River Valley and up the coast on Rt. 1. The stretch of Rt.1 from Jenner to Mendocino is my third favorite stretch of road so far-basically one big roller coaster ride with its never-ending switchbacks combined with stomach-dropping dips and climbs all the way. Added bonus--everyone had very good etiquette and pulled over to get out of my way as fast as they could when they saw me fly up behind them. Just one gorgeous stretch of road with nothing but team players on it. Fabulous. The downside was that I didn't stop to take any pics because I didn't want to make everyone I had already passed pull over for me again because I was feeling all this peer pressure to be a team player. I will try to focus more on picture taking and less on being a team player tomorrow. That is my promise to you.

San Francisco through the Golden Gate Bridge

A freight ship passing the Point Bonita Lighthouse as it leaves San Francisco Bay

Rodeo Beach

Two comparison tastings at Mumm (the Santana came later): (1) The slightly sweet tasting--Cuvee M v. Demi Sec and (2) The sparkling red tasting--Sparkling Pinot Noir v. Cuvee M Red (96% pinot noir and 4% syrah).  I was a big fan of the Cuvee M Red and now I can't wait to get home and order some so my mimosas can be prettier than everybody else's. That's right, you heard me, I said it.

Quick Update from San Francisco

For those of you who emailed me wanting to know where I am at the moment, that would be San Francisco. Yesterday my friend S and I drove up here from Palo Alto nursing brutal little hangovers after a night of Korean BBQ and Korean karaoke with the Knight Journalism Fellows at Stanford. The beginning of our demise was when the owner of the Korean karaoke place heard that these journalism fellows were in the house and was so honored that he sent a complimentary bottle of scotch to our private room. Given that I was the only scotch drinker in the crew and that wasting liquor is completely against my religion, my wildly hungover fate was pretty much sealed. S could have saved herself, but being the devoted friend that she is, agreed to help me finish the bottle (she knows how important my religion is to me) and so suffered the same fate. We nursed coffee and water all the way to the Cliff House overlooking Ocean Beach where we could start nursing alcohol again over lunch. Once we had enough alcohol in our systems to carry on, we did a little driving tour of the city, complete with a trip down Lombard Street, before I dropped her at the train station.

As for today, I spent it walking through Chinatown (stopping to fortify myself with a little dim sum), little Italy, Ghirardelli Square, the Aquatic Park, Fisherman's Wharf and eventually back downtown via the Embarcadero. Late for a date in the Castro right now. My itinerary for the next few days (for those of you who like to know where I am at all times) has me here for one more night, then off to Napa/Sonoma, Mendocino and Eureka before meeting up with a posse of Caymans and Spyders in Portland on Saturday.

Seemed to be a little miscommunication with the woman who ran this "cocktail lounge" in Chinatown when she came outside after seeing me take this picture. Her: "Yes? Yes?" (pointing emphatically at the cocktail that comes with the plastic little girl on top); Me: "No, no"; Her: "Yes? Yes?" Me: "No, really, no." Not totally positive what she was selling, but somehow totally positive that I didn't want to buy it.

This is how you spell Jack Kerouac in Chinese. Don't say I never taught you anything...

Alcatraz from Municipal Pier

The Golden Gate Bridge from Municipal Pier

Monterey to Yosemite to Palo Alto

Just arrived at my friend's place in Palo Alto and haven't seen her since I visited her in Paris over a year ago, so I am keeping this short in the name of quality time with one of my favorite people in the world.  

After a walk and some lunch in Monterey, I headed for the 17 mile drive, then into the Carmel Valley so I could do a tasting at the Bernardus Winery. After the tasting, I continued through the valley on the Carmel Valley Road, which was my second favorite driving road of this trip (for those of you who haven't been paying attention or have shoddy memories, that would be second to the River Road outside Big Bend in TX). This road never lets up, it just sucks you from one amazing curve into another through some of the most beautiful farmland I have ever seen before finally opening up at the end right before you pick up the 101 into a wide open straightaway lined with gorgeous vineyards. The curves were so tight with such dramatic changes in elevation that I really felt like my car was built to drive that road. I can't think of a car fast enough, nimble enough and perfectly balanced enough to keep up with me--all Cayman S drivers should put driving this road (and the River Road for that matter) on their list of things to do in life.  

Around 10pm I ended up at a motel in Los Banos because I was exhausted, it was dark and raining and I hadn't had dinner yet. I had the following conversation the Indian guy who checked me in after he noticed my car through the window: 

IG: "You are driving dat Porsche?"

Me: "Yup"

IG: "It's very nice Porsche"

Me: "Thanks"

IG: "I am very much liking dee German cars"

Me: "Yeah, me too. They're great" (thinking: please just give me my key so I can eat before I pass out)

IG: "Do you know, I am having a Porsche."

Me: "Oh, really?"

IG: "Yes, my Porsche is being a nine tventy-eight" (he looks at me, his eyes glittering with mischief) "Would you like to be seeing my nine tventy-eight?"

Me: "Sure, that would be great."

IG: (laughing hysterically and pointing at a bug-eyed fish in the fish tank on the counter) "Dis is my nine tventy-eight!!!" (doubled over laughing now) "Are you getting it???? Dis is my nine-tventy eight! Are you getting it???"

After assuring him several times that I was getting it and that it was a very funny joke, I finally got my key. This morning I worked my way over to the South Entrance of Yosemite (via 152 and a bunch of farm roads that got me to 41), then took 41 up through the park to 140, which I took over and out. It was a very pretty drive, but it was raining the entire time I was in the park, so I just stayed in my car and chalked it up as a nice relaxed driving day since it couldn't be a hiking or photo op day. So excited for quality time with an old friend...turns out driving around the country by oneself is a pretty lonely existence.  All the great strangers and sights that have crossed my path so far don't measure up to one old friend.

17 Mile Drive

17 Mile Drive

Carmel Valley Road

Carmel Valley Road

I think I can take him . . . without even putting down my camera to shift.

Things have come a long way since 1910 . . .

1910 Locomobile (complete with spare tire), made me appreciate my windows as the rain closed in.

Anyone need any farm equipment? Going once . . . going twice . . .

LA to Monterey and the Girl Who Would F*ing Die for Me

I arrived in Monterey around 11pm last night after 11 hours on the road (the last two and a half winding along the PCH in the dark with dense fog and rain, dodging most but hitting a couple of the big rocks strewn across my lane--not fun at all, but that's what I get for leaving the agenda up to some wildly hungover, sleep deprived girl). I need to go check out Monterey before I head for Yosemite, but have to quickly share this highly edited version of the story of my last night in LA (the unedited version will no doubt be in my book).

I was at a certain establishment, spending some quality time with the only hot girl who was working at this establishment, and her boss kept coming by and pestering us and making weird little snide remarks, prompting me to ask her if this guy was always such a jackass and her to explain that no, he was just doing it because I was gay and never bothers her when she hangs out with straight customers. When he reappeared a moment later and fired off one more comment, I was done. I followed him out to the main room and proceeded to dress him down to nothing in front of about 20-30 onlookers to the point that when I was done and asked him if he had anything else he wanted to say to me, he just shook his head like a scared little kid. I think the nicest thing I said to him was something like (after a quick recap of my credentials), "if you think I'm going to let some short, fat, illiterate, homophobic illegal immigrant harass me because I'm gay...you are out of your f*ing mind." 

Now, the girls who work at this place hate this guy because he harasses them all the time. So, when I returned to the hot girl whose eyes were just wide with amazement, she grabbed me and hugged me and when she was done laughing hysterically, but still hugging me so hard it was hard to breath she said, "I can't believe you just did that. You are amazing. Oh my god, I f*ing love you. You have more balls than anyone I have ever met. I can't believe you just went out there in your f*ing bare feet (I lose flip flops easily) and said [maybe I'll tell you exactly what I said in my book] to him. I would die for you, girl. You are the most amazing person I've ever met. I would f*ing die for you." To which I replied, "yeah, that was pretty awesome...even though I'm going to be kicked out in about 20 seconds. totally worth it." We sat back down and waited for the bouncers to come for me while she repeated her favorite lines over and over, until we were laughing so hard we were crying. After about 10 minutes of reliving the smackdown, the bouncers still hadn't come for me and she said, "I can't believe it. I've never seen this before. He's so scared of you, he's too scared to try to throw you out. Oh my god, this is amazing. Unf*ing believable. I have never seen him scared of someone before. You are so fierce and brilliant and amazing, I would f*ing die for you."

When we realized that I wasn't going to get kicked out because this guy was too scared to tangle with me again, I said I might leave anyway because I just wasn't going to have any fun there at that point. To which this girl replied, "if you go, I'm going with you." Knowing they were short staffed to begin with and that she was the only hot girl working that night, and that basically that place was screwed for the night if she left, I asked "aren't you on until close? If you leave with me now won't they fire you?" To which she replied, "I don't care, I seriously would f*ing die for you. I just want to be able to hang out with you for one night before you go. I'll meet you by the door in 5 minutes." Which she did and then grabbed me and spun me in the direction of the bartender and shouted to her, "do you see this girl? I'm leaving with her because I would f*ing die for her." She proceeded to deliver the same message to her boss, the bouncers, the cab driver (to whom she told the entire story complete with direct quotes) and a few innocent bystanders just walking past on the street.  

Somewhere around the fifteenth time she pledged her willingness to die for me, a cautionary flag went up in my wasted little head because her level of enthusiasm reminded me of a crazy slovakian model I met the last time I was in LA. The short version: (Day 1) Danced all night, made out for a few seconds on the dance floor, wouldn't let her come home with me despite (or because of?) her begging, but did exchange numbers with her so we could grab dinner the next night; (Day 2) woke up to 7 missed calls and 27 text messages from her and sent her a nice brush off text telling her some work had come up that I had to deal with asap and that I wouldn't be able to see her before I left town; (Day 3) she showed up at the chateau in the middle of the night demanding to be let into my room and, when they wouldn't give her a key after calling my room several times and getting no response, camped outside my door for hours leaving me several text messages and voicemails begging me to let her in so she could "say goodbye" because she knew I was leaving the next day (must have stalked me online for hours to come up with my last name because she only knew my first name and the city I was living in at the time).  

At any rate, after a quick drunk analysis of the mental health of the very hot girl who would f*ing die for me, I decided she was more passionate and wasted and full of big romantic notions than genuinely insane and I let her come back to my hotel with me for a fabulous (though sleepless) night. Everytime I picture her jackass boss's face when he realized she was walking out with me, and that they were screwed for the night, still puts a big smile on my face. Not sure I would die for her, but that girl was solid. I'm all about loyalty and fighting the good fight. So, when she asked when she would see me again in the morning and I said I would call her the next time I was in LA, I meant it.

The PCH between LA and Santa Barbara

Sleepy, smelly sea lions off the PCH

Night and fog closing in around me on the PCH...the driving rain and resulting rock slides would come later when it was pitch black out just to really test my skills...