Lots

A majestic bald eagle, soaring over the vast industrial plains of Seattle’s global import/export shipping hub at sunset seems like an apt metaphor for the good old U.S. of A, especially, when you look a little closer and see that the mighty bird is being mobbed by dozens of seagulls and at least one random crow; having attained this perspective by rolling up ten, count ‘em ten, floors of a virtually-deserted urban car park (that, for the life of me, seems ideally-suited in these days of rampant homelessness for being converted to covered camping spots for the unhoused), frames the imagery with an ironic border that turns it from stereotypical cornball pap into a unique and poignant commentary on the state of the world today; plus, you could easily social-distance on the football-field-sized platform in the sky and drink beer al fresco on yet another long-lingering evening in the heart of the glorious Pacific Northwest summer.

And that was just the first of three parking structures scaled; albeit the best of the lot(s).  The next, while it featured tighter turns and ultimately, a more close-up view of what was once the tallest building west of the Mississippi, but is now merely a quaint anachronism, was mainly notable for being unprecedented, and the third, which, although it has apparently been voted the coolest parking lot in the country, was really only special for affording one the opportunity of recreating the iconic Leonardo DiCaprio scene from James Cameron’s Titanic.

Having availed ourselves of so much concrete, the logical subsequent choice was to head for the water, where our small group met up with a much bigger contingent of far cooler cyclists; the electric bike earned its keep by transporting the resupplies and compelled the assembled to stick around a little longer, which meant that a person was able to get their swim on, in water no colder than the night air; “America,” as the eagle reminds us, “Fuck yeah.”