“Come to Seattle … and let’s go for a walk!” And do a number of other things besides. In honor of Leap Day, I present to you my Seattle Bucket List – things I will do if and when I visit Seattle.
100) Purchase tickets for a matinee performance but attend the evening show instead. When the ticket collector detects the error, exclaim in horror that ‘I have to see this play. I have to have people see me seeing this play. If I’m not seen seeing this play, you see …” When she interrupts my monologue to suggest that I try my luck in the cancellation line, haughtily retort that the last thing I need is for anyone to see me hanging around like gutter riffraff, pathetically scrounging for last minute tickets! Depart in a huff, while my evening companion makes his apologies to the folks in the cancellation line.
99) Purchase a goldfish. Purchase a Jack Russell terrier. Name them both Eddie. Address the confusion that immediately results by calling them Dog Eddie and Fish Eddie, not to be mixed up with Human Eddie who wears Aqua Velva, serves pot roast at his dinner parties and portrays George in reenactments of the Beatles’ performances.
98) Take my dad ice-fishing. Rapidly realize that since we are vegetarians who hail from a tropical climate, no aspect of this activity is even remotely enjoyable, not even memorizing 10,000 useless fish facts. When the park ranger arrives to rescue us, proclaim our profound affection for him. Upon noting his horrified expression, hastily clarify, “Ya! We love ya!”
97) Visit Elliot Bay Café (the real-life setting for Café Nervosa) and order a macchiato. Change it to a doppio, thereby prompting a concerned relative to exclaim that whatever the problem is, the answer doesn’t lie at the bottom of a coffee cup.
96) Visit Elliot Bay Café and order a double latte, full fat with chocolate shavings, henceforth known as ‘the self-pity special.’
95) Visit Elliot Bay Café and order a latte with a vanilla scone. Ask my dining companion if he thinks I’m elitist (not in the good way). Recite Kipling’s ‘If’ poem while looking down my nose at the absent hoi-polloi who are unfamiliar with Kipling.
94) Visit Elliot Bay Café and order a bottled water, room temperature. Win a fanny pack. Repeat performance.
93) Visit Elliot Bay Café and wait for my dad to join me. Instruct the waitress to bring him a black coffee. Explain that I cannot emphasize the word ‘black’ enough. Warn the waitress that if said coffee is not black, I take no responsibility for the consequences. When she suggests adding a biscotti, insist that she call it a cookie.
92) Join a wine club. Become president and eventually, Corkmaster. Introduce a series of byzantine rules and regulations, which have club members doing more deliberating than drinking. Inexplicably experience re-election. Deliver an acceptance speech in which I thank my opponent for so graciously conceding after that fourth recount.
91) Refrain from getting Dog Eddie neutered, despite having promised family members to do so. When an irate neighbor arrives with six miniature Eddies, inform her that she has a bad attitude and that is why no one will sit with her in the park. Subject all prospective puppy owners to a rigorous screening process that includes aura vetting.
90) Badger the local PBS station into letting me perform “Buttons and Bows” at their pledge drive, because unlike a certain honey-voiced radio psychiatrist, I know all the words.
89) Attend a protest to save a bookstore. When the police arrive, clear the hedge in front of the adjacent establishment like a Kentucky prizewinner.
88) Get into an argument with the staff at a small indie bookstore. Stalk out while informing them that they have an alphabetical misfile but I’m not going to tell them where! (The best revenge is not living well. This is the best revenge. It will totally keep them up at night.)
87) Invite my nephews to go camping. Express outrage when they voice a perfectly natural preference to play with the kids next door (who have a rope swing!) instead of reading Walden and journaling. Proclaim that we leave at daybreak.
86) Book a flight to Montana to celebrate a friend’s birthday since he only gets one every four years. Refrain from boarding the flight, citing a crippling fear of polyester avalanches.
85) Befriend the owner of the small bookstore from #88. Show her where the alphabetical misfile is. (It would have kept me up at night.)
84) Enjoy a luxurious dining experience at Le Cigare Volant. Complain that the exquisite meal was marred only by the lack of even one outstanding cognac on their wine list. Toast to impossible standards.
83) Enter a questionable establishment and demand of the bartender whether a young woman has been in here tonight, about five foot nine, with porcelain skin, alabaster brows and the sort of eyes that gaze directly into one’s soul with neither artifice nor evasion. Act affronted when my companion prosaically sums up ‘Venus herself’ as ‘an Englishwoman named Daphne.’
82) Arm myself with a red pen. Visit various yuppie joints. Correct all errors in graffiti. When family members question the wisdom of spending time in this manner, inform them that ‘I don’t do it to be popular!’
81) Visit Elliot Bay Café and order a black coffee. Observe the fastidious fancy-drink buyers with utter disdain. Remark that I hope I never see the day when a cup of regular American coffee is not good enough for me.
80) Visit Elliot Bay Café and order a black coffee. Listen to the waiter describe the new specials. Complain that I just don’t understand what has happened to coffee these days. Proclaim that I’m a regular Joe and I like my joe regular.
79) Repeat #80 until an annoyed family member speaks his truth. Sarcastically excuse myself for having had the audacity to express an opinion. State that I thought this was America. Look around and say, “Oh wait. It is!”
78) When a family member loses a chess match, attempt to console them by donning a sock puppet, naming it Freddy, informing it that “my friend here has lost his happy pants. Would you sing for him?” and having the puppet launch into a rousing chorus of “Who’s that Grouchy Gus I see? You can’t be grouchy, not with me! Sing along! Who’s that Grouchy …” When the grumpy audience voices a preference for having a tarantula lay eggs in their ear, realize that they are just being a sore loser and refrain from taking their negativity personally.
77) Mentor a young tech billionaire who has not had any time to acquaint himself with the finer things in life. When people make the assumption that the beneficiary of my services is underprivileged, inform them that I am catering to a forgotten minority.
76) Watch the Antiques Roadshow with my family. Take a drink every time the word ‘veneer’ is uttered. Decide to choose a different word the following week.
75) Attend the opera with a date. Express the appropriate level of emotion upon hearing Canadian tenor Ben Heppner sing Tristan. When I am turned down for a second date, protest that it was Ben Heppner singing Tristan, you’d have to be stone not to weep at his tragic end and furthermore, it would have been extremely unpatriotic on the part of a fellow Canadian!
74) Accurately identify a close relative’s famous mushroom-and-tarragon sauce from the living room. When acquaintances express amazement at this feat, modestly blush while my relative states that I have always been able to identify sauce from a great distance.
73) Visit Elliot Bay Café and accept a brownie on behalf of someone else. Unwrap the brownie, dissolve in temptation and consume it without thinking twice. Hastily purchase a replacement before the legitimate recipient arrives. Hand over the brownie. Exit the cafe. Proceed to have great ideas all afternoon and write them down on a list that already contains “fridge pants”, “dog army” and “barbecue pudding chips.”
72) Drive to the Oregon border and turn back because I have fruit in the car.
71) Ensure there is no fruit in the car. Drive to Portland to chase down an elusive carton of bran flakes.
70) Scold Dog Eddie for dragging me through the puddles and getting my hems wet. Forgive him when he brings me my favorite slippers.
69) Play Scrabble with a loved one. Argue over the legitimacy of a word. When challenged to use said word in a sentence, triumphantly reply, “Her grandmother’s bed was warm and quilty.”
68) Call someone and inform them that their phone manner is delightful.
67) Chop vegetables in rhythm with the object of my affections while we sing “Heart and Soul” by Jan and Dean.
66) Rent a beach house. Set the alarm code to my ideal weight. Dismiss any concerns that no one could weigh that much and live.
65) Discover an injurious graffito about me on the bathroom wall at work. Protest to friends and relatives that I am not a snob. Express dismay when the graffito receives additions. Complain that I have read anthologies with fewer contributing authors. Host a party to eliminate perceptions of snobbery and become beloved by the common man. Discover that my introverted tendencies do not hold up well under the constant adulation of the common man. Express my real feelings. Joyfully return to my former reclusiveness and tight inner circle.
64) Visit a jewelry store in a mall. Upon discovering a particularly exquisite piece, exclaim, “What bejeweled seraph has escaped her provenance now?”, thereby prompting exasperated relatives to abscond to the nearest Orange Julius.
63) Interview for a new job. Infer something about my prospective employers that I would have no way of knowing. When they express surprise, bashfully confess that ‘I’m a bit psyyychic.’ Express joy when they decide to find this charming and extend an offer of employment.
62) Solve a cold case by claiming that the monkey did it.
61) Host a series of meticulously crafted dinner parties that inevitably end in disaster due to the hosts’ collective insistence on achieving perfection. Remain undeterred.
60) Secure a prime parking spot right in front of the opera house steps. Never stop telling anyone about it.
59) Visit Elliot Bay Café and have coffee with a relative who name drops celebrities in a manner Tahani Al-Jamil would envy. When the waitress arrives to take our order, request a dustpan and a broom to sweep up some of these names.
58) Assemble a trio of bilingual folks: one English-Spanish speaker and two Spanish-German speakers (one Guatemalan and one German). Instigate an argument between the German and a fourth individual who speaks English but neither Spanish nor German. When the fourth individual is challenged to a fencing duel and exclaims, “En garde!”, complain that all we need is a fourth language.
57) Purchase a big-screen TV … the kind whose speakers need to be wheeled in on dollies. Dismiss claims that I am laying waste to a beautiful apartment, thereby earning myself the coveted label of “Bolshoi artist”.
56) Rediscover a beloved performer from my childhood. Mount a one-person show featuring them. Realize that my childlike innocence prevented me from discerning their complete and utter lack of talent. Mourn that I can’t go home again. Recollect the golden era when I thought the 1812 Overture was a great piece of classical music. Watch in dismay as my attempts to sabotage my own show are sabotaged by Fate itself.
55) Attend a Bar Mitzvah. Bless the guest of honor in Klingon.
54) Drive across town in a heavy thunderstorm to prevent a vulnerable woman and an unstable man from doing something they will regret for the rest of their lives. Upon arrival, bang on the windows of the mansion in a manner reminiscent of Heathcliff.
53) Rent a Hatchback. Express disgust that someone would name a car after its most unattractive feature. Use the car but refuse to acknowledge ownership, even if it’s careening towards a baby carriage.
52) Learn to play squash. Claim that my backhand could slice the bristles off a kiwi fruit.
51) Become addicted to a trashy mini-series. Claim that the plot twists are downright Dickensian … Angie Dickensian.
50) Attend a Japanese-themed dinner party. Spend the entire evening carping that the obis in the geisha paintings are improperly tied.
49) Distance myself from a family heirloom until it establishes a link with royalty.
48) Visit Elliot Bay Café. Reject coffee blends from countries with questionable ethical practices.
47) Answer a relative’s cellphone with “Jane Smith’s … phone!”
46) Whine about wanting to change my hairstyle. When teased about it, indignantly retort, “I don’t whiiiiine!” (with five i’s. This is essential.)
45) Reconnect with a relative I haven’t seen for ages. Exchange banalities such as, “How’s tricks?”, “Can’t complain”, “They keeping you busy?”, “You’d better believe it!” and “Well, what’re you going to do?”, accompanied by a helpless shrug and smile. Reflect on how marvelous it is that we can both pick up exactly where we left off.
44) Book a hotel room. Upon arrival, make a beeline for the mini-bar and extract the Orangina. Remark that it’s a funny thing about Orangina, I never drink Orangina at home but whenever I’m in a hotel and there’s a mini-bar, it’s the first thing I go for. Orangina …
43) Visit Elliot Bay Café to meet a friend I haven’t seen for a week. When they arrive, hold up an over-sized cue card that states, “Nobody said anything particularly amusing for a week and then …”
42) Experience a night of insomnia. Hold up an over-sized cue card that says “Sleepless in Seattle (come on, you knew we had to do it eventually).”
41) Have someone refer to me as “the eminent writer.” Modestly demur, “My friend/colleague is too kind. They were already eminent when my eminence was only imminent.”
40) Worry that heaven will be racist and none of the authors I admire will want to hang out with me. Maud will tell me that she’s busy but then I’ll see her with Austen and the Brontë sisters! (This is, of course, absurd. There was no love lost between Jane Austen and Charlotte Brontë. On the bright side, we have “Northanger Abbey”.)
39) Quote “Ask not for whom the bell tolls.” When the doorbell rings, refuse to answer.
38) Plan a Christmas Party. Schedule the guests for a spirited game of “The Minister’s Cat,” followed by caroling, followed by another game. Act affronted when a family member observes that the only game the guests will be ready for at this point is “Russian Roulette.”
37) Instigate a feud with the man upstairs (no, not Him. The neighbor). Invite him to the Christmas party as a peace offering. On the night of the party, realize that he is siphoning off my guests. Tempt them with the aroma of hors d’oeuvres wafting up from the balcony. When this fails to entice them, call the fire department and inform them, “That many people in an enclosed space must constitute a fire hazard.” When the guests arrive at my home, welcome them with great confidence that I will not have the same problem.
36) Frequent a British pub. In a heated moment of misguided patriotism, draw insulting comparisons between Britain and my native land. Upon being driven out of the pub, protest that I spell color with a ‘u’!
35) Tell Dog Eddie my problems until he buries his head under a sofa cushion. Inform him that psychiatrists have more subtle ways of letting a patient know when their time is up.
34) Refuse to attend an interview without seeing the job description. Defend my decision with the statement, “Blind setups remain the refuge of the desperate,” prompting the individual who made the offer to observe that if I didn’t talk like that, I would probably be employed by now.
33) Hire a recruiter. Instruct her to sell my talents all over town. When she expresses frustration that no one’s buying, offer to throw in a toaster.
32) Decide to work for the recruiter. Demand a discount in the form of a bonus since I opted for the floor model.
31) Take a managerial position for a few years. Announce my departure to wails of, “The softest boss we ever had is leaving!” Experience a baffling array of conflicting emotions.
30) Take my nephews for a drive. When they object to my choice of radio station, inform them that classic rock is both classic and it rocks! (Also, in my car, it’s my hits or nothing.)
29) State that, “It’s one thing to give advice; it’s another to take it.” Add no context; this tautology is consistently applicable.
28) Purchase a themed hat for every national holiday. When the holiday arrives, place the appropriate hat on Dog Eddie and take him to the park. Delight in the dominance he asserts.
27) Point out the Space Needle to someone who has been born and raised in Seattle. Soothe their irritation by inquiring after the Mariners.
26) Take the city bus. Greet the driver with, “Good day, busman!” and announce the stop at which I wish to alight.
25) Celebrate Black History Month by playing my CD of “Ella Sings Gershwin”. Act affronted when informed that ownership of this CD does not qualify me as a soul sibling!
24) Fret over Dog Eddie’s emotional state. When a well-meaning family member asks if I think a dog psychiatrist could be the answer, indignantly retort, “Only if the question is what is the most insane thing we could possibly do!”
23) Join a political campaign. Casually mention my citizenship status. Watch in horror as the campaign disintegrates due to an influential participant mistaking me for an extraterrestrial.
22) Cope with romantic disappointments by playing air violin to Bach’s Brandenburg Concertos.
21) Sculpt a topiary likeness of a beloved employer. Weep without shame when it develops root rot.
20) Call ahead before visiting. After hanging up, ring doorbell. When asked whether there was no traffic, answer in the affirmative.
19) At breakfast, complain that my muffin has a number of things I don’t care for. Tweeze my fruit with the statement, “Away, wrinkly thing!”
18) Take my nephews to my favorite restaurant and introduce them to my favorite server. Feel thoroughly chagrined when she refers to one of them as Eddie. Take both boys to the arcade to make up for this unpardonable gaffe.
17) Despite being a teetotaler, order a martini with three pearl onions. If they bring me two, if they bring me four … send it back.
16) Have my nephews pose for a holiday card we will be sending out later in the year. When they begin to bicker, gently chide them. “Boys, boys. Don’t fight. Have you forgotten what day it is?” Act affronted when they both reply, “It’s October 27th!”
15) Donate all my old cocktail dresses to a homeless shelter. (Daria detour: Just because they’re homeless doesn’t mean they should be unfashionable.)
14) Order a full-fat milkshake with dollops of whipped cream and loads of chocolate shavings. When it arrives, take one long whiff of it and walk away.
13) Visit a day spa and attempt to open forbidden doors. When the staff protests, complain that there are no crueler words in the English language than, “Please remain in the relaxation grotto!”
12) Find something I like about everyone, no matter how annoying they are.
11) In the spirit of self-improvement, insist that family and friends share exactly what it is about me that they find unlovable. When they respond with far more enthusiasm than the activity merits, make a sarcastic observation about how nice it is that we’ve all found an activity we can enjoy together.
10) Protest that I am not over-bearing. I am merely passionate and right and passionate about being right!
9) State that I am not some power-hungry dictator and my colleague is just being paranoid! Retreat to my lair so that I can plot some way to prove it.
8) Play the piano on a rainy day. Reflect on how music makes the gloomiest weather seem a little brighter.
7) Learn Mandarin. Inform a Mandarin-speaker that she’s as lovely as a chicken beak.
6) Compose a song that would have been perfect for Frank Sinatra. Watch in delight when it is performed by a gospel choir.
5) Fill in on a radio comic hour when the regular hosts abruptly depart. Attempt to describe a rather amusing editorial cartoon I saw that morning.
4) Become an arts critic. Overuse the word ‘incandescent’ in my reviews.
3) Purchase and use a Mont Blanc pen.
2) Visit my childhood piano teachers to thank them for the contributions they made to my life. (Get your mind out of the gutter; I was actually learning music!)
1) Retreat to a cabin for some solitude. Realize that ‘it is in solitude where we are least alone.’ Attempt to banish the people in my head. Realize that they will not leave until I make one very important discovery …
Saranya Murthy 