Ballard Bridge Blues

Part I
In Which I Complain

There is a billboard on the south end of the Ballard bridge. (Well actually there is one on both ends of the bridge). The one in question has a picture of a Toyota mini van and it says " VANquility"*.

It makes me want to bang my head against my steering wheel.

But I don't because then I might loose control of the vehicle, veer into oncoming traffic and then drive off the bridge into the water or possibly land top of the "deadliest catch' fishing boat (as seen on TV- the fishing boat, that is).

Or it might just hurt my head, and the advertisement already hurts my head enough as it is.

After several weeks of starting at the billboard sitting in back to back traffic every time the drawbridge went up I began to concoct a plan.

It was a daring, devious and slightly illegal plan. But it was done to save my sanity (and 'the deadliest catch').

Also, I had just read the "Monkey Wrench Gang" by Edward Abbey.

Yes, my friends, I concocted a plan to perform the second act of vandalism of my otherwise well bred existence. (peeing in the park does NOT count).


* Toyota wants you to know that by buying their product you will also be purchasing 'peace of mind**' There will be no nasty recall with this product, the breaks will not malfunction and you will not loose control of you vehicle and veer into oncoming traffic and drive off the bridge.....


** 'peace of mind' is actually a little hippie/elf version of yourself that lives in the trunk of your car with rainbows and unicorns. I know this because I saw it on TV.

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Part II

In Which Some Art Happens

I really like the muralist Henry. You, know the one whose paintings are scattered through Fremont, Ballard and elsewhere?

http://www.seattlepi.com/visualart/400609_muralist19.html

Well it is irrelevant, I suppose, because Henry is a well known muralist and would probably not consent to being part of an obvious act of vandalism. It was a good idea though....

My friend Priscilla is a pretty good artist though, and her boyfriend has a really big ladder and some window washing equipment.

At first we wanted to paint right over the advertisement, Banksy style, but Priscilla said, no, no way could she do that and make it look good with out getting caught. And the point was to make it look really good. Actual art, not just graffiti.

In the end we made several large strips of painting that Priscilla and Scott glued over the advertisement at 3 in the morning while wearing "official" dayglo orange vests. I held the ladder.

It lasted for about a day. Now I think there is a an ad for beer up.

But. It was really beautiful for a day.

In which city budget cuts lead to my arrest.

Well, ok, I didn't actually get arrested. Just a strong reprimand from an SPD officer who told me in no uncertain terms that I could get arrested for public indecency if I urinated in the wooded area of the park again.

Why was I peeing, discretely, or so I thought, in Golden Gardens park? Not because the name suggested such an act was permissible. Rather, I found myself for the second time this week in a Seattle park on the day that it happened to be closed for furlough i.e. not staffed, i.e. locked bathrooms.

On Monday I held it, today I could not.

Ballard Brunch

I went to brunch at the Dish today, just scraping in before the 1:30 closing time. Noisier and more crowded than ever, but just as good. In fact we were having a spectacular brunch/lunch right up till the table across the way started changing their son's diaper at the table. They had seemed like a normal, slightly, but not-quite-hip family with two older girls and a boy under two. Luckily the boy was too big to change on the table and the offending process happened somewhere between the parents laps and a chair. Then the mother waltzed through the crowded restaurant carrying the soiled diaper to the bathrooms in her hand. I really hope she washed her hands, her husband certainly didn't.

Later as they were leaving Mr. Not-quite-hip interrupted our conversation to ask if he could borrow my pen which was sitting on the table. I acquiesced and too late recalled the diaper incident. Instead of returning the pen he walked pass me out the front door. It was really irritating, but I decided not to say anything, I mean, who wants a pen covered in fecal matter anyway?