Traveling Light
One of the basic principles in traveling is to arrive at your
destination with your luggage. Most times, when luggage is missing,
it's the fault of the carrier. It is rarely one's own fault.
And when it is, one especially feels like a dope. This recently
happened to me on a train trip heading to Vancouver, B.C. for
a weekend. Luckily, if I can count such idiotic circumstances
as luck, Amtrak had not yet negotiated convenient links from
Portland to Vancouver without a bus ride or an overnight stay
in Seattle. I'd rather stay in Seattle overnight and continue
on the train to Vancouver, along the outstanding coastline, rather
than by bus along I-5, so there I was in Seattle with no luggage.
This predicament was discovered about ten minutes out of the station
and I was lucky enough to have an efficient Amtrak representative,
who did not laugh, call the Portland station, describe my bags,
and have them put on the next train, which would arrive at 10
p.m. that same night.
No problem. Except that I was supposed to go to a reception in
the evening and mingle with nicely dressed folk and eat fancy
hors d'eouvres in the Presidential Suite of the Edgewater Hotel,
where I was staying.
The Edgewater, built on a pier, is the only hotel in Seattle directly
on the waterfront. Some may recall the famous 1960s photo of
The Beatles fishing out of the hotel window. I'd like to fish
from my window, or at least relax in my lovely warm room looking
out on Puget Sound, but being prudent, I thought it best to run
uptown and try to find something more suitable than jeans and
a sweater to wear to the reception.
I headed out along the waterfront and got only two blocks when
it began to rain. Hard. I flipped my hood on my raincoat over
my head and continued to the public elevator that would take
me to the covered walkway over the road and railroad tracks to
within a few blocks of Pike Place Market. Then, only a few more
blocks to downtown I was sure I could find something. As I hustled
by, hunched against the rain, I glanced at the Pike Place clock.
Great. If I hurried, I had just enough time to get back to the
hotel and take a shower before the reception. Forget the clothes.
I'd be fine.
Taking a shower and washing one's hair in a hotel is not a problem
without one's luggage. Most places you can rely on shampoos and
conditioners and a hair dryer. How blissful I was in that shower.
How foolish I was looking in the mirror afterwards. Just how
does one deal with one's hair without a brush or comb? Call the
desk. Ask for an emergency toiletry kit. Done, easy. However,
I must not have made it clear that I needed the items as soon
as possible. Oh, well, a little ballpoint pen parting and finger-combing
would have to do.
O.K. so I was a little out of dress-code
and uncomfortable, but after one stupidly muttered, “I left
my bags in Portland,” I thought what the heck, are they going
to slap my hand if I reach for a crab puff: "Excuse
me, missy, what do you think you're doing?! Didn't you have
the good grace to change your clothes?"
Thank heavens they had the good grace not to notice.
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