A Long Trip

So, now that summer is winding down, it's time once again to make preparations for that dreaded return to school in September. In the past, that meant packing up my things over the course of a week and then dragging those things across the full length of the country. The whole trip is usually a bit depressing. The worst moment is right after getting completely settled in at my seat and realizing that I'm basically on my own glorified flying school bus. Once the flight gets underway, I forget such things and zone out to music, watch a movie, or do a crossword. Once I land, however, I remember that I'm going to school, but that means I get to see my friends, and our de facto family will reunite.

Not this year.

After spending the summer in Washington, I'll soon be traveling home for a few days before leaving for a semester in the United Kingdom.

I'll still be blogging, at about the same frequency (I hope), with new material about how the New Northwesterner lives on the far side of the Atlantic.

And while my friends settle in on their very first morning of classes, I'll be on an airplane, headed home, depressed to leave my friends but excited to see my real family for a little while.

Thunder and Lightning

Okay, so in my last post, I said I could do without summers on the East Coast. That isn't entirely true. I missed one little detail.

August is the best month of summer. Not because its baseball's stretch run, or back-to-school time, but for that moment of indescribable happiness that comes along on selected afternoons in August: the very moment the sun comes back out after a massive and violent (and most times mercifully brief) thunderstorm that brings sheets of rain and an impressive light show.

As the storm clears out, the sun emerges with brilliance and and smell (oh man, the smell) of fresh, moist, crisp air fills the lungs. Sometimes you even get a rainbow as icing on the cake. The temperature and humidity have both come back to within the 'habitable' range.

Man, I love a good thunderstorm.

But I'm realizing that it just isn't going to happen. It's Western Washington - rain capital of the country. Who could blame me for hoping, after the long and damp winters?

Where's the high humidity? 100 degrees anyone? Oppressive heat? Come on, summer, give me your best shot. Yet mother nature seems to have cried uncle before even lighting up the sky just once.

I miss my east-coast thunderstorms. They're like clockwork, happening at the same time (hence, the 3 o'clock shower) every day. It's the worst time of day for a run to the coffee shop two blocks over. It's the best time of day to stare out the window for a while. And it's always fun to see those poor corporate-types caught in the rain without an umbrella.

Mother Nature? A request. Thunder and lightning. Bring it.

Pleeeeeeeease.

Summertime

Allow me to set the scene.

It's late afternoon on a Saturday. A few people are over listening to the ballgame. The grill is firing up some freshly charred goodness, to be placed between a bun.

Ah, summer. What a glorious time of year.

If only the weather weren't so much like mid-spring. Come on. It's 65 degrees and mostly cloudy.

But this is the Northwest, so I guess people get used to it. (This is, of course, not to say that it never gets that way - it's been plenty hot, but not consistently for days on end.)

But why am I complaining? I'm a New Yorker, so to me, "summer" translates to "100 degrees, 100 percent humidity, the 3 o'clock thunderstorm, and enough ruined shirts to last a lifetime."

I guess I could do without it. Yeah, I could.

Bring on the burgers, and get outside!

The Local Watering Hole Destroys Society

It's Friday afternoon. It's been a long week. I get a call from a good friend, inviting me to join him and some others at the local bar for some well-deserved relaxation. I tell him I'll meet him there, knowing full well that my age prohibits me from certain beverages. It doesn't bother me - I'd just like to spend some time with some friends and shoot the breeze. A nice way to kick off the weekend.

Except that in the state of Washington, it's not going to happen. For anyone. According to them, minors underage scum like me allowed in the same room with alcohol pose a threat to disturbing the peace.

I remember my first trip out to Seattle, a few years ago when I was looking at colleges. My father and I had picked a restaurant for dinner a few blocks over and we figured we'd hit the chic-hipster-looking bar off the hotel lobby for a beer (him) and a soda (me). We sat down, ordered our drinks and a small appetizer, and chatted. So far, so good. The drinks and food came, and our evening was off on the right foot. Until we were accosted by a waitress giving me a funny look, asking my age. I said I was 18, and that I was drinking a soda. She then asked me to leave politely, saying that minors aren't allowed in the bar.

Uh, lady, the bar's 20 feet behind you. It's right over there. And I'm drinking a soda, remember?

No, she said, the bar. The decorative metal bar behind you that separating this area from the lobby. You have to leave now.

I wasn't exactly going to make a scene, but I was skeptical. So I asked her what the deal was.

She said that, in Washington, a minor underage scum can't be within the clearly defined area cordoned by the "bar".

Well, it's not like she made the law, so me and my father quickly finished our food and left, rather confused by the whole thing.

I wouldn't have even raised an eyebrow at a bar back home in New York - this is from experience.

Witness the Revised Code of Washington, Title 66, Chapter 44, Section 310, Paragraph 2:

"The Washington state liquor control board shall have the power and it shall be its duty to classify licensed premises or portions of licensed premises as off-limits to persons under the age of twenty-one years of age."

Now, from the same section, Paragraph 1 Clause A:

[It is punishable blah-blah-blah that...] "To serve or allow to remain in any area classified by the board as off-limits to any person under the age of twenty-one years;"

(Read the rest here.)

"Area"? "Off-limits"??! Who knew such a liberal-seeming state could be so puritanical about something like this? It's not like I'm going to jump over the bar and pour vodka down my throat until the bartender tackles me.

I want to know why Washington state thinks that I am unable to control my behavior just because I was born after a certain date. I want to know why Washington considers me to be a petty criminal if I want to spend time with my friends.

The real crime here is the terrible prejudice committed by Washington's law that labels any and all minors to be out-of-control hell-raisers with an insatiable lust for booze.

I could go on to say that ridiculous laws like this are the underlying cause for high rates of underage drinking (they are) and other nonsense, but that's not what I'm getting at. I'm not explicitly advocating for lowering the drinking age, but that's also beside my point.

The stigma that this law creates denies meaningful interaction between members of a community or neighborhood. My parents would tell me stories from their college days about the bars they went to with their professors once a week to have an intelligent conversation over an afternoon beer. I read about how the local pub was once the center of its community, a place for all to gather, confirmed by a recent visit to London.

I'm even denied entry to music clubs every so often, because I'm under 21. I'm going for the music, stupid.

See what I mean? Washington's liquor law destroys society.