Ascension

We didn’t get as high as I had anticipated, but there were more highs than I expected, especially the ones associated with riding up switchbacks over train tracks and dodging baby scooters for a dance al fresco in accompaniment to the dulcet tones of the Filthy FemCorps.  You can never go wrong with Madonna and Lady Gaga tunes performed by Seattle’s very own “hot bag full of fierce women who aren’t afraid to be weird, genuine, raw, sweaty, confident, honest, loving and real.”

And while we didn’t all ascend to the highest heights of our fair city, a stalwart handful did manage to get all the way down to sea (or, at least river) level and then gain something like 300 feet or so to the top of one of Seattle’s traditional seven hills only to reconnect momentarily with a few friends who’d gone up and away earlier without us.

The stars seemed aligned for re-commemorating that day in 2012 when cannabis consumption was made no longer criminal in the state of Washington with a visit to the tipmost top of our fair city but alas and alack (and “oh well” and “who cares?” too), other elevations rose up instead resulting in a ride pretty close to the Point83’s titular excursion and this on a December evening that was not only dry but also warm enough for just wool and no shell all night long.

Besides, riding along the Viaduct-less waterfront is still a brand-new thrill that never gets old and having the rent-a-cops turn the red and blue lights of their golf cart on you from behind a cyclone fence is just the sort of humorous theatrics that bring out the surly teenager in anyone no matter what age.

In the end, there are as many different ways of getting high as there are highs of different ways to get there; eventually, seen from above, the upward path is just one more way to get down.