We're changing hotels today. It's too late when we rise to get breakfast. Instead, we pack and pile into an Uber.
Why aren't we on the motorway, I wonder. Surely that's the way to get downtown? It turns out that there's been a mix up. The Uber was provided by the hotel and they'd given the driver the same address as yesterday: Foggy Noggin. Just as well we're in no rush.
We're staying fairly well downtown. Which means there's lots of stuff nearby. Like somewhere to eat.
There's a taco place, Dos Chamucos, over the road. Just $3 a taco. Ok, they're quite small, but it's still cheap. As I'm not that hungry, I order two. And a margarita. Don't fancy a beer, this time. I'll be drinking lots of that over the next few days.
I do like a margarita. A caipirinha, too. Especially when it’s hot. They slide down a treat. The kids are sticking with beer.
“It’s very colourful in here.” I opine.
“That’s Mexico for you.”
“We’ll be experiencing it first hand in a few days.”
“If we make it across the border alive.”
“Crossing which way?”
Fed, we laze in the air-conditioned delight of the hotel. Where, ironically, I warm myself up for the evening with a whiskey or two.
“Leave some for me, Dad.” Andrew objects.
“Who paid for it?
“If you’re going to be picky, Mum did.”
I'm due at Machine House (or Machine Head as Lexxie keeps calling it) for my second and final event of this trip. As usual, we get an Uber there.
It's quite full. And everyone must be there for me, as they don't usually open on Monday. That’s a fairly good sign.
This is a more formal talk. Complete with a Powerpoint and everything. To go with the event, Bill, the English owner, has brewed five cask Mild Ales of varying vintages. It's like heaven, really. Dolores was so jealous when I told her.
The talk runs smoothly, though I'm feeling pretty hot. The kids shelter outside in the breeze, watching BNSF freight trains roll endlessly past.
When I start flogging books after I'm done jabbering I notice that I've forgotten to bring from the hotel the volume I specifically lugged across the Atlantic for this event: Mild! plus. Damn.
Bill packs us off with a load of stuff. T-shirts and beer. The kids are reluctant to take so much beer. Especially as we're already packing quite a bit Jim gave us at Foggy Noggin.
“You can never have too much beer.”
“It’s easy for you to say that, Dad, when you aren’t the one carrying it.”
They’re so ungrateful. No-one was giving me free beer when I was their age.
“When I was your age . . .”
“Shut up, Dad, we’ve heard it all before. You slept on a block of ice and ate nothing but gruel. Times have changed.”
Feeling a bit peckish when back at the hotel, we nip over the road to Dick's, an incredibly cheap burger place. Just $2.60 for a cheeseburger. Bargain. It’s incredibly stripped-down, just a counter and a big open space. No tables, no seats, just open space. Seems, sort of, a waste of space.
We eat our burgers in the hotel. Topped off with a little Tomintin to glide me down sleep's deep valley.
You can hear my talk at Machine House here.
Dos Chamucos Taqueria
550 Queen Anne Ave N,
Machine House Brewery
5840 Airport Way S #121,
500 Queen Anne Ave N,
If you liked this post, maybe consider buying the book about my trip to Japan and South Korea with the kids.