It's 10 am and instead of chillaxin' in our hotel room or sight seeing in Seattle. Instead, we're camped outside Hudson news at LAX, having missed our 6 am flight. Being too broke to pay a $300 flight transfer fee resulted in us being placed on stand-by with a guarded optimism and a prayer. The big suck? Even if we don't make it out, we're stuck with non-refundable tickets.
So here we are, hearts pounding because we have one more shot to make the 1 o'clock flight. We're numbers six and seven on stand-by and if we don't make this one, we will be forced to camp out at the airport again tomorrow.
Seattle or bust, baby!
It's 5:15, and we're on the airport shuttle to downtown. After waiting in LAX for seven and a half hours, we finally touched down and found transport, only to discover our hotel is the very last stop. Tanya in her hunger delirium is pointing out every advertisement mentioning food. The bus driver joined in, detailing every good eatery within walking distance. This is not helping.
It's 10 pm and we can finally laugh at our day's adventures. What else could have gone wrong after the airport fiasco, you ask? Everything. It's like we were the whipping boys of Murphy's Law. After that seven hour hunger strike (have you seen the prices of food at airports?), food was the foremost thought on our minds. So we set on a quest find what we was rumored to be the best pizza in town.
We spent 30 cranky, hungry, sore and tired minutes walking a hills of downtown Seattle, in search of Serious Pie. Tanya asked every passer-by (even the crackheads) on our journey if they knew where to find this holy grail of Seattle pizza. Everyone raved about its deliciousness, but no one could pinpoint its location.
The irony is by the time we found the restaurant, we realized that not only did we walk past it four times, everyone we asked had been partially right about its local; but they were also dead wrong. Every. Last. One. As an aside, clams do not belong on pizza.
Just as we think the adventures have come to an end, we get to endure four hours listening to the denizens of Seattle night life and the neighborhood drunk camped outside our street level room - think the "holla, holla, holla" guy from The Chappelle Show, but inebriated and dirty.
- Missed flight
- Hunger strike at LAX
- Hour and a half on downtown shuttle
- Quest for the Holy Grail
- "Holla, holla, holla"
We hope you appreciate the trials we've suffered to bring you this Bumbershoot coverage.
More to come...
© 2008 Kimberlee Morrison and Tanya Payne. Some rights reserved.