I watched the Space Needle glisten in the early sun as my plane slid through a cloudless blue sky. The whole time, Robyn Hitchcock's song "Viva! Sea-Tac" played in my head. "Viva Seattle Tacoma! Viva viva Sea-Tac! They've got the best computers and coffee and smack!" I'm giggling like a moron.
The bus from the airport picks up at the baggage claim and drops you off in the middle of downtown. It costs $1.25 and takes fifteen minutes. The previous evening it cost me $35 to get from my apartment to the airport - roughly two miles.
A block from the bus stop is the Green Tortoise Hostel. I see the little door and climb the stairs. And unwavering beneath the weight of my borrowed backpack, greasy and aching from eleven hours of travel, a giant smile is plastered across my face. Damp hair stuck to my forehead, Dramamine crusties at the corners of my eyes, I'm grinning like a lunatic: they're listening to John in the Morning in the lobby of the hostel. On the actual radio.
DJ John Richards, of KEXP, the independent Seattle radio station I'd been listening to religiously for years online. I fully worship John Richards on my knees. He is a legend, and tens of thousands of people all over the planet listen to him every day. We're called the Morning Faithful.
I meet my first Seattle boy, who is characteristic of the rest of the Northwest boys I meet while here. He is behind the counter of the Hostel, smiling broadly at me as I struggle out from under my backpack. He looks healthy and strong in an "I play outside" way. He's eating an apple and his eyes twinkle. I look to the side of the counter to see if the rest of the room is on a slant. Nope. He really is 6'3". Just like his two coworkers, broad-shouldered and rosy-cheeked.
I point to the radio. "John in the Morning! In the morning!"
"Strangely enough, yes -- in the morning."
"It's... I... I listen to him at night. In Boston. It's night time. John in the Morning. At night." I can't see through the stars in my eyes.
"Are you here for business or pleasure?" He has very shiny white teeth. Eating an apple. Wearing a Supergrass t-shirt.
"Well, I'm moving here in June and I thought it would be a good idea to come check the place out first," I tell him.
"Moving here? Excellent. What brings you to Seattle?"
I stood for a minute. Over the radio, I heard John in the Morning greet the Morning Faithful and toss on a Death Cab for Cutie song. They're playing three shows next week.
I answered him, simply and honestly:
"The music."
He smiled, white teeth, enjoying his Washington apple. "Well, you've come to the right place."
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