The CSI: YEAAAHHH... (part 1)

Before we begin, this requires an explanation: the CSI Yeah comes from the intro to the show CSI: Miami.  The intro song is We Wont Get Fooled Again by The Who.  It usually follows a witty remark from the show's main character, head of the crime lab, Lieutenant Horatio Caine.  In the real world (or my world, anyway) this intense affirmative outburst is reserved only for the greatest of moments.  These moments are rare, and for two to happen in the same day, rarer still.  So it came as a welcome surprise when my world stopped twice for a few seconds to acknowledge the epic events.

I popped out of bed early this morning (very, very new things, remember?) and the thought of being timid is so small that it is noteworthy only because of how insignificant the idea actually is.  I do a little trick that I picked up in Florida and grab a touristy pocket map, a Seattle Magazine, my ipod and a one-way ticket to downtown Seattle, sans breakfast.  On the 37 minute light rail trip, I read about the district and note some interesting things to do.  Flying by the seat of your pants is really fun and sometimes the planned stuff is too boring.  With that as my guide, I note some points of interest, and decide to generally make my way north on foot and see where the wind takes me.  Right off the bat, something catches my ear as I cross a busy street right outside the train station.  It sounds like a rhythmic chanting of sorts, something that might come from a crowd of, say, protesters.

Had I planned to get lunch precisely at (insert time here), I would not have waited a few moments on that street corner to find out.  Before I know it, a few hundred people with a few less cardboard signs are marching down the street.  So I instinctively run toward the nearest light poll and climb.  Certainly not out of fear, but if I'm going to be an expert iReporter, I'll need a better angle.  I shoot some video as the group walks by and sits down in the busy intersection.  Not to be left behind, I walk over to the sit-in and hop on a huge concrete planter, again for the angle.  After shooting and listening to the stories from the group for a few minutes, a gentleman of about 40, with some cameras that brought out my envy, extends his hand to me.  Embracing the spontaneity of the day, I grab his hand and he pulls himself up onto the planter and I share my knowledge of how to stand on the rim without killing the flowers.
"Thanks!"  He says with a smile as he snaps off some pictures.  "The name's Jack Storms!"
BOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
Okay, the thunder was in my head, but really?  Jack Storms? (booom...)
He went on to explain that he is a human rights advocate.  He basically introduced himself like, Hi, I like this thing and I take pictures of it.  Cool, huh?
Umm...YES.
Now even though I was the only guy on a flower pot, it must be written on my forehead: he asked me if I was from around here.  After hearing about my 3000 mile departure from my norm, he said something with the words "culture shock".  I responded with something to the effect of "I'm not shy".
He smiled.  "Welcome to Seattle!"  [CSI YEAH]
I'll hear Those Three Words again.

After I got my fill of the 99% it was back to the list to quiet my stomach; Pike Place Bar and Grill for fresh salmon sounds perfect.  If you haven't been to Pike Place, it can be quite the labyrinth, but a little wandering never hurt anyone.  As expected, I stumbled upon the main entrance and walked in.  A bit of advice if you end up with your own adventure; DO NOT be shy about saying "One, please" at mealtime.  If you're not comfortable eating alone, just grab a pencil and notepad and people will think you're a food critic.  (And when you post your findings, you will be).  I scanned the menu and since I could combine my breakfast and lunch budget, I splurged on the sampler.  Could there be a dish with any more of the seafood things I like on it?  Battered fried cod, crab cakes and grilled salmon.  No.  Literally, no, I don't like anything else from the ocean but those.  As for the drink, the beer list was long, but after the waiter said "Alaskan Ale", I went deaf.  Slightly hoppy with a little citrus (his words, not mine).  It was delicious, and ice cold.  What's this?  Some unusual looks from the patrons across the room...

To be continued...