Seattle and Everything After
It wasn't until 2014 that I made my way to Seattle for the very first time. A childhood friend had moved out to the Emerald City a couple years before that taking that transcontinental leap of faith to follow a love interest that didn't end up panning out. He fell in love with the city pretty hard though (he had talked a good game about moving there or San Francisco all through high school and actually followed through) and decided to stay. By the time I arrived to visit him for the first time since the move, he had begun dating someone new; she would go on to become his wife.
Right, wheels up at dawn. Let's get things moving again.
Before that first trip, the only things I really knew about Seattle were that it rains a lot and it's a good music town being the old stomping grounds of Nirvana, Heart, and Soundgarden to name a few bands I listened to growing up. The city is the home to the Seahawks (then fresh off a Super Bowl win) and the Mariners but the Mariners hadn't really mattered since they lost Ken Griffey Jr. and Ichiro. Architecturally, I knew about the Space Needle and Pike Place Market but I really didn't know much about the populace itself other than its affinity for flannel shirts and grunge tunes. The only other West Coast time I had logged at that point was Southern California where it's perpetually early summer and I knew that wasn't going to be the case here.
I landed in Seattle at night, my buddy waiting to pick me up at Sea-Tac. Night time in Seattle has a noir feel to it all, the shadows cast a little longer, the streetlights hazier and neon-tinged, the way that coastal mist off the Puget Sound clings to the air. Even just walking around the corner to a late-night bodega was moody and atmospheric as all hell and I loved every bit of it.
There's an interesting dichotomy with Seattle that it has a big city attitude but a small town feel. The skyscrapers and business districts are definitely there and bigger than, say, Charlotte or Portland, but there's also this hard to describe feeling that people are still just folks and there's a sense of familiarity throughout the community; it's all very close-knit. Also, hanging out in restaurants and bars, there's a sense that Seattle is still very much in the 90s culturally. The fact of the matter is the Rain City Renaissance where grunge and Pacific Northwestern fashion took the world by storm wasn't Seattle finding itself, it was the rest of the world finally finding Seattle; that's just who they are. There's something really genuine and cool about all that.
At this point, I've done comic shows in my hometown of DC, Baltimore, New York, San Diego, Los Angeles. Every city brings something different to the table. DC and Baltimore rides on familiarity and nostalgia; those are cities I grew up in or frequented often. New York is the most claustrophobic and fast-paced show I do and despite getting worn down during the day, it's like I get completely reinvigorated at night; there's always been something about that city that comes alive when the sun goes down. San Diego has always been my favorite show, it is a comic convention in excelsis running around sunny Southern California with the big ticket announcements and guests during the day and the poolside and rooftop parties at night. LA is LA, entertainment capital of the world with its business as usual during the day and all the hip restaurants and bars at night; everything just feels cooler there though without the grit that gives NYC its greater sense of authenticity.
Seattle is different.
I mean this in the best possible way but when I'm in Seattle, I'm moving a little slower. I'm having a good time but, even among friends, I'm more introspective than usual. Not as intense or worrying as moody deconstruction but there's a heightened feeling of self-reflection. I ran into the desert last year as a form of western-tinged isolation experiment. When I'm in Seattle, I'm alone together. And that's fine. I kind of like that. In doses anyway. I don't know if I could live there but it's nice to clear the head a bit and regain your bearings in a different environment which the Emerald City really lends itself to.
You hear it musically too. Every city has its own flavors, its own rhythms: East Coast rap versus West Coast rap, the horn-centric swinging melodies of New Orleans, the working class blues and rock of Chicago. In Seattle, the guitars shimmer like the mist that clings to the air, they're not clean. The drums aren't dry like in Austin or Nashville, there's something deeper and more sonorous going on there.
I've got all my favorite downtown Seattle places mapped out: The ramen shop on Capitol Hill, the record store in the converted warehouse, the burrito place that serves margaritas out of mason jars, the list goes on. In the past few years, I've made it back to Seattle quite a bit and it's become this introspective prologue that usually kicks off a year of travel.
There's an interesting dichotomy with Seattle that it has a big city attitude but a small town feel. The skyscrapers and business districts are definitely there and bigger than, say, Charlotte or Portland, but there's also this hard to describe feeling that people are still just folks and there's a sense of familiarity throughout the community; it's all very close-knit. Also, hanging out in restaurants and bars, there's a sense that Seattle is still very much in the 90s culturally. The fact of the matter is the Rain City Renaissance where grunge and Pacific Northwestern fashion took the world by storm wasn't Seattle finding itself, it was the rest of the world finally finding Seattle; that's just who they are. There's something really genuine and cool about all that.
At this point, I've done comic shows in my hometown of DC, Baltimore, New York, San Diego, Los Angeles. Every city brings something different to the table. DC and Baltimore rides on familiarity and nostalgia; those are cities I grew up in or frequented often. New York is the most claustrophobic and fast-paced show I do and despite getting worn down during the day, it's like I get completely reinvigorated at night; there's always been something about that city that comes alive when the sun goes down. San Diego has always been my favorite show, it is a comic convention in excelsis running around sunny Southern California with the big ticket announcements and guests during the day and the poolside and rooftop parties at night. LA is LA, entertainment capital of the world with its business as usual during the day and all the hip restaurants and bars at night; everything just feels cooler there though without the grit that gives NYC its greater sense of authenticity.
Seattle is different.
I mean this in the best possible way but when I'm in Seattle, I'm moving a little slower. I'm having a good time but, even among friends, I'm more introspective than usual. Not as intense or worrying as moody deconstruction but there's a heightened feeling of self-reflection. I ran into the desert last year as a form of western-tinged isolation experiment. When I'm in Seattle, I'm alone together. And that's fine. I kind of like that. In doses anyway. I don't know if I could live there but it's nice to clear the head a bit and regain your bearings in a different environment which the Emerald City really lends itself to.
You hear it musically too. Every city has its own flavors, its own rhythms: East Coast rap versus West Coast rap, the horn-centric swinging melodies of New Orleans, the working class blues and rock of Chicago. In Seattle, the guitars shimmer like the mist that clings to the air, they're not clean. The drums aren't dry like in Austin or Nashville, there's something deeper and more sonorous going on there.
I've got all my favorite downtown Seattle places mapped out: The ramen shop on Capitol Hill, the record store in the converted warehouse, the burrito place that serves margaritas out of mason jars, the list goes on. In the past few years, I've made it back to Seattle quite a bit and it's become this introspective prologue that usually kicks off a year of travel.
Right, wheels up at dawn. Let's get things moving again.
