Bobbles took some excellent shots of the event.
Yes, we did “Ride The Ducks”. Not sure why it’s plural ducks but that’s what it is and so we did it. People who attended, in order of walking into Cafe Campagne for duck fuel in the form of bloody marys and savvy bitches: Me, Sami, Daniel, Alyssa, Bob, Todd, Karen, Maggie, Josh, Twozdai, and Lia (who joined us after breakfast).
Duly stuffed, we acquired a quick shot of espresso and walked briskly over to 5th and Boren—we were fully primed for optimal Ducks riding. The day was unexpectedly beautiful. Everyone was really really ridiculously good looking. Flasks were in hand, caps unscrewed in anticipation.
The Ducks filled up. It was full of people! We had to pack ourselves in tightly, two to a seat, in order to fit everyone in! What to do in a ducktastrophe? Cling to a sponge and shoot yourself through the plastic windows. And we hit the road.
The jokes were delightfully bad, and I kept laughing at Todd’s canned laughter. Quacking helped. The whiskey helped. Waving and drunkenly quacking at strangers who looked at the roving duck-mobile in horror helped. It is a subtle form of entertainment perhaps not for those with weak hearts but weaving through Pioneer Square, downtown, over the 99, into Fremont, and across to Wallingford made me almost tear up in love over my city. Even through the hazy lens of the plastic windows, this was a beautiful city indeed. Seattle, my love affair with you is still going strong. And then, to the tune of Giligan’s Island, we plunged into the water screaming at the top of our lungs. AHHHHH!
Oh my sweet Jesus it was a beautiful day. Water came almost up to the windows and our vibrating car/boat rattled around Gas Works Park, rounded the corner to the house boat village, checked out some house from Sleepless in Seattle, over to another more expensive looking House Boat City, you might say, spotted Chihuly’s house boat out of the corner of our eyes, and got a polite “keep it on the down low” from the driver when we started getting over-excited with our flasks and cheersing each other. We gave him the “you got it!” thumbs up through his rear-view mirror. We had an understanding.
I forget what else happened, but suddenly it was over and we were drinking at the 5 Point and eating chicken strips and mashed potatoes and of course another whiskey soda.
We stumbled out of there around 3 I think and had that strange singular sensation of being drunk and feeling the sun on my pale face simultaneously. We went shopping at Kuhlman as a warm down, and then headed off to live our separate Sunday afternoons. Mine consisted of a nap.
I deem this adventure a raging success.
