We were up early again, much to Mark’s dismay. The weather was half-decent, albeit 4°C, so we went back up the Space Needle for Part II—the CityPASS allowed us to visit twice within a 24-hour period. The views weren’t as impressive during the day and without the mist.
The only other thing left in our ticket book (looking at it now, the Museum of Flight and Woodland Park Zoo were overlooked) that appealed to us was a boat tour. We took a walk along the waterfront to Pier 55 and, with an hour to kill before our cruise departed, visited a Red Robin* for “bottomless” fries and burgers.
Our time on the water with Argosy Cruises lasted around 45 minutes. The tour guide told us it was her birthday, but since tips weren’t covered by our CityPASS and as it was such a brazen attempt at getting some, she received nothing more than a smile as we disembarked. Seattle looked great from the water, and it’s arguable the boat offered a better view of the city than the top of the Space Needle.
Next up was sorting out a U.S. sim. My number: 206-356-7769. The 3G still wasn’t working, though, meaning establishments with Wi-Fi were still being favoured over those without.
With our CityPASS used up and our patience toward vagrants worn thin—one homeless person complained when Jon offered her twos on his last cigarette—we booked Greyhound tickets to Portland, Oregon.
Bar a quick visit to the supermarket and the infamous Gum Wall, we spent the night drinking in the hostel’s “vice room.”
There, as well as meeting a posh sod from Kent who became known as “Jason” (though he looked nothing like Ashy Bushy), we got talking to a former army guy, Noah, who was shipping off to Vietnam (by choice—this was 2011, not the 1960s) in the morning with his friend Dan.
They roped us into playing a drinking game that required participants to tape their empty cans or bottles to the bottom of their next drink. It was more an exercise in hindering one’s ability to drink while proving one’s zaniness than a game to be honest. Murica.
Noah invited us to meet him in New Mexico in the new year without giving us his full name, address or even city.
TL;DR: We got drunk (because #LADS), but we went to bed early (because #SENSIBLE) ahead of the morning’s four-hour coach trip.
*Red Robin’s table service disqualified it from our league table of American fast food establishments, which was compiled at Departure Gate 11, T5, Chicago O’Hare Airport at the end of the trip.