I go through a lot of used CD shops in Seattle, always on the lookout for certain titles to add to my collection. Jive Time in Fremont is always a good place to check out--I'd have to say that about a third or so of my CD collection came to me through Jive Time. I'm a good customer.

Or am I? I was going through their $5.00 discount selection, when I saw a copy of Soundgarden's SOMMS. For anyone not in the know, SOMMS is a limited-release CD of Soundgarden's BADMOTORFINGER release of 1991. I'm not sure what a copy would go for now, but in its day it was a much-coveted item, demanding somewhere around $100. Well, that was 15 years ago, and prices are whatever the market can bring. I just don't think that a collector's item of a legendary Seattle band would go for as little as five dollars, in Seattle. So I can infer that the proprietor has made a mistake, though he seems to be an aficionado on all other counts. Should I bring this up to him, or take the opportunity to score a bona fide rarity at bargain-bin cost?

And while I could wax eloquent on being honorable and honest, I have to admit: I just picked up the CD for $5 and didn't say anything. I'm thinking about taking back my now-obsolete copy of BADMOTORFINGER and just giving that up, along with a few other CDs that I no longer need, as something of an inventory trade-off, but that's not going to erase the fact that I think I took advantage of a grievous oversight.

The human buffet

I took my mother to the Point Defiance Zoo. Although I like Point Defiance Park, I have to admit that the zoo is less than impressive. Seattle's Woodland Park Zoo is much more interesting. Anyway, the tiger cage is no longer a cage: it's a habitat display, behind a thick wall of plexiglass. And a magnificent Bengal tiger specimen was pacing back and forth restlessly as we walked up. I managed to snap a few pictures, since it paced up and down without interruption, and oblivious to any attempt to catch its attention, with OCD regularity.

My mother pointed out to me, as we walked away, that the tiger was most likely angry, that it could see all the defenseless little children, in the strollers pushed up right against the plexiglass, and the toddlers who'd run right up and wave at the tiger--but couldn't get any. Like a big, rotating buffet of succulent human infants, and for some reason there's an impenetrable barrier that keeps it forever off limits. That's probably more than a predatory cat's mind can handle. I say the kind thing to do would be to give it a baby now and then, just to let it know that it's not all for nothing.

Pushin' 40

Then it was my birthday, turning 39. I had planned on trekking down to Portland with Hammerhead to check out Ground Kontrol, an excellent arcade of vintage 70s and 80s video games, all in perfect working condition, and still a quarter a play. So we set out on the morning of Saturday, the 21st of July, for Portland. Hammerhead was driving, and had to make a stop at the office, in Bothell. It was about noon before we were ready to hit the road--only I wanted something to eat. All the good places to get breakfast were too busy to seat us quickly, so I went with his suggestion of Applebee's, which I'd never tried. Figured it couldn't be worse than Denny's. Right?

And so began my birthday weekend, which was remarkable for how much I enjoyed it in spite of how much of it was disappointing. Starting off with Applebee's, where we sat in the lounge (thinking we'd be served faster that way), and ordered breakfasts. I opted to try the biscuits and gravy, as my breakfast fantasy had drifted to what was possible if we were in north Lake Union and could be eating at The Varsity. But even with that setting me up for a fall, the service itself was pretty depressing. After our first coffees, we didn't see the waitress again for a good fifteen minutes, and when our meals arrived mine was getting cold (the eggs had the consistency of rubber). That, and she got my order wrong: I'd said bacon, and she brought a plate of sausages. Which were tasty (my hunger notwithstanding), but wrong nonetheless. All in all, a mediocre experience drawn out over an impatient stretch of time.

The drive down itself was fairly good, no real traffic and clear weather. The hotel was impressive

when we arrived,
Hammerhead having insisted (against my protests) on getting something fancy downtown. I was happy to stay at the Thrift Lodge we had the year previous, at $85/night. Instead, he books us into rooms at the Embassy Suites in downtown, at $225/night. I balked, but he persisted: you get a free breakfast buffet. And he offered to pay the difference between the two accomodations, seeing as it was my birthday and all. Which I thought was very cool.

Only, he got himself a corner room (something he stipulated when he made the reservations), while my room, next door, was about half the size. I didn't mind the size so much: in fact, it felt weird having a sofa and armchair in one room with a table and television, and the bedroom completely separate. Well, they do call themselves Embassy Suites. But the room smelled bad, fairly rank. I went to open the windows, but found that they were sealed behind a layer of plexiglass. We were only on the seond floor: were they afraid some patrons would commit suicide by jumping? Place was very comfortable, though. I just don't think it's worth $225/night.

We got a six pack each and some snacks for the hotel from the mart around the corner (the rooms had refrigerators, which is much, much better than having to load the bathroom sink up with ice from the machine to chill the beer). I had a beer or two while showering off, twin reliefs from the July heat. Then we set out for dinner at my favorite diner in Portland, The Roxy. I found this place, about a block from Powell's City of Books, on one of my previous Portland stays, while I was looking for someplace to eat at 1:00am in the morning. The decor was uber-kitsch: an oil-on-velvet portrait of Quentin Tarantino, a lot of strange odds-and-ends, the bathrooms (at least the men's--) were wallpapared with tabloid pages, when you ordered cream for your coffee you were given a glass dispenser shaped like a baby bottle--that sort of thing. And the menu was a kick. My favorite was the Soylent Green omelette ("A little bit of us in every omelette", it said. I didn't ask what was in it...). And the breakfasts were huge and satisfying.

Unfortunately, this being dinner (and not wanting a burger), I ordered a hot turkey sandwich. I found this to be less than impressive, the turkey being simple deli meat, and the gravy the stereotypical neon-yellow that you find in...well, diners. It's not The Mecca in Seattle, that's for sure. And while I still like it as a scene and for the breakfasts, I didn't have the best of birthday dinners. Nevertheless, I took a BLT to go, for later when I got back to the room after a nightful of beer: no good trying to come down with a bag of potato chips, when it's easy to plan ahead.

We went for a walk around downtown afterwards, and saw that an old Portland landmark had closed:


















Hung Far Low had been there for nearly 80 years, according to the sign. It was a Chinese restaurant, and I had been there once a few years back; the place was surreal. It still had an early 70's feel to it, from the faded linoleum to the fluorescent lights that they somehow don't make anymore. Place felt like my grade school cafeteria. When I was there, I got a full dinner combo for about $5. Which was about what it was worth--totally bland. Only other person in the restaurant was some guy having a loud conversation: I didn't check to see if was on a cell phone or not. I don't know why I didn't try the lounge: it was clearly more popular than the restaurant. But I didn't, and it turns out I wouldn't get the chance again. Too bad.


Our ultimate goal on this weekend, however, was Ground Kontrol, a two-floor arcade of vintage 70's- and 80's video games.


















Sad to say, I was a bit disappointed with that scene, as well: turns out they'd cleared out about a third of the first level to make room for a dance floor.




















As a result, some of the less-familiar games that I'd been looking forward to playing for old times' sake weren't in attendance. No Berserk, no Moon Patrol.















But they still had my favorites, Star Wars and Tron. Also, Tempest, which I liked OK--but Hammerhead named as one of his favorites. He absolutely refused, however, to be photographed, so you'll just have to imagine him.

I lost track of him before midnight, and he didn't answer his cell. Apparently, he went back to his room and played Lord Of the Rings till the early hours. I didn't feel like closing the place down, either, and headed back at about one. I chowed down on the BLT I'd brought back before, emptied the six pack, and crashed at around 4:00am, watching HUNT FOR RED OCTOBER on cable.

I met HH at breakfast in the morning, a very fine lay out, actually. Every conceivable breakfast food was there and in abundance, and there's nothing I enjoy more food-wise than diversity. I love an all-you-can-eat not because I can gorge myself, but rather that I have a broad sampling of foods to choose from. Nothing was spectacularly good (though HH did say that the omelet (you stood in line at the griddle, and they made a custom omelet for you) was well worth the wait. I loaded up on a little of everything: eggs, bacon, sausage, biscuit, pancake, grits (something I've only had a few times in life), home fries, fresh fruit, oatmeal...a little of everything. The coffee was decent, and if the orange juice was a little weak, at least it was plentiful. I finished up with half a bagel with cream cheese and a slice of toast with jam (there was a toaster in the corner, with your choice of breads). Impressive, almost enough to make up for the room I had. All I can say, if you're in Portland and want to stay in downtown, the Embassy Suites isn't perfect but could be worse. Just make sure your room is clean when you check in.