Tag Archives: Seattle

#flashfiction friday: St. Patrick’s Day at the Drunken Sasquatch

There’s something about St. Patrick’s Day that brings out the crazies, even in Seattle. Or, should I say, especially in Seattle. If there is one night of the year when were-dragons should stay home and avoid the tavern, it’s March 17th.

Now in a place like Seattle, folks like me usually go unnoticed because the Emerald City is just that kind of town. The people are relaxed and accepting here. It’s like they don’t even see us.

Oh, sure, a few members of my community aren’t the kind of people most folks  want to know. Being a reporter, I tend to come across them in the course of my work, and let’s just say it’s not all rainbows and unicorn farts for  some of us anymore.

Modern society has ruined the weaker minded. You didn’t hear this from me, but some of the most unusual and largest thefts of metal can be laid at their door. Ever hear of the wholesale disappearance of live electric wires for the length of a city block? How about an entire condominium’s worth of  electric water heaters going missing?

In some cases, that stolen metal isn’t being sold for drug money, as the ordinary folk assume.

That would be normal, and being what we are, we don’t really do normal that well.

No, instead of financing drug habits, it’s worse.

This stolen metal shows up at Renaissance Fairs and Fantasy Cons all over the West Coast in the form of knock-off medieval armor, pseudo-medieval jewelry, and fake regalia, hawked by elves wearing obviously plastic Spock ears and cosplaying as Legolas.

But I digress—we were talking about St. Patrick’s Day and why a were-dragon like me avoids the Drunken Sasquatch on that day. I admit that bar is my second home under ordinary circumstances, but this is not a normal holiday. And while the Drunken Sasquatch is in what is known as the Scandinavian side of town, these normally sober, morally upstanding leprechauns of the Lutheran persuasion seem to come out of the woodwork.

These are people who have no knowledge of how things work in a neighborhood bar. Ignorant of the proper protocols, they will blithely sit on a regular’s favorite barstool with no remorse or fear of reprisal.

Don’t look at me like that. You’re thinking, “Dan Dragonsworthy, don’t be such a curmudgeon. They’re leprechauns–it’s their big holiday. Why shouldn’t they celebrate a little?”

Well, I’m not a curmudgeon. I’m smart.  First of all, these folks never set foot in Ireland. They’ve been here for three generations, like the rest of us.  And once they start pounding down the beers, these leprechauns do something no sane person would consider hanging around for.

Karaoke.

You know you’ve died and gone to Irish Hell when a marauding band of leprechauns, drunk on their entire year’s quota of green beer, takes over your favorite watering hole and turns it into a karaoke bar. There is no agony like that of ten drunken leprechauns, all insisting on singing the same three Sinead O’Connor covers over and over again, all night long.

Bloody Bill doesn’t even try to fight it anymore. He just lets them set up their machine and puts in his earplugs.

Me and all the rest of the regulars—we meet at Alfredo’s house for a little BYOB party, play a little cribbage, and listen to his collection of Pogues CDs all night long. For a vampire, he’s a pretty good host, and provides us with all the little Vienna-sausages and microwaved popcorn we can consume.

So, St. Patrick’s Day is the one night of the year when you will not find me in my usual chair at the Drunken Sasquatch. Instead, I’ll be drinking my orange juice at Alfredo’s and watching Harry Wolfe try to beat Grandma at cribbage.

He won’t of course. He never has and and he never will. No one can beat Grandma at her favorite game. Of all people, Harry should know that, seeing as how she wears his stepdaddy’s hide to church every Sunday.


St Patrick’s Day at the Drunken Sasquatch, © 2017 by Connie J. Jasperson, All Rights Reserved.

Green Beer, b y SpaceAgeSage from USA (Green Beer) [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

Skunk Fur Coat, By unknown / –Kürschner (talk) 19:02, 3 June 2009 (UTC) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

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Filed under #FlashFictionFriday, Dragons, writing

la vie fantastique

Map-pugetsoundMy hubby and I went to Victoria, British Columbia (Canada) over this last weekend. It was a wonderful two days, spent in a town that exists partly to govern the Province of British Columbia, but mostly to help you lighten the burden in your pocket book, and make you beg to let them do it again.  We got up at 3:00 a.m. and left our house at 4:45.

(Gah!)

I am often up at that time of the day, but not intentionally, so it was no surprise to me that I could hardly pry my eyes open. Then we drove up to Seattle, collecting two of his sisters along the way.

It’s amazing how little traffic is on I5 at that time of the morning–perhaps I will do all my traveling at ungodly hours. And parking…OMG, it was heaven.

(Sorry, too much texting the GKs lately. Makes me want to lol out loud. Might write my next book in textspeak.)

Anyway, I had my pick of prime spots in the parking garage, and found one I was easily able to maneuver the old minivan into with no trouble. I hardly gave my poor brother-in-law, Dave, a heart-attack  at all on the way up to Seattle. He  is a sweetheart of a guy but the man is a nervous and verbal passenger.  The trip back–well lets just say he wanted me to take the Alaskan Way Viaduct, and I didn’t want to.

I’m sorry, Dave. I’m afraid I can’t do that. 

I don’t trust the viaduct. It’s as shaky and narrow as a one-legged ladder.  I’d much rather drive in aimless circles around downtown Seattle hunting for a southbound freeway on-ramp, counting the number of times we pass Nordstrom’s and he doesn’t see the fun in such an exercise. But that’s another post (the one on how our family puts the fun in dysfunctional.)

Catamaran_Victoria_Clipper_IVSo we got on the Victoria Clipper at 7:30 a.m., which is definitely the way to go if you are traveling from Seattle. Victoria Clipper catamarans typically complete a one-way trip in less than 3 hours, in our case, 2 hours and 45 minutes.   To drive there would take 6 hours from our house anyway and we would still have to take a ferry, so why not just leave the car in Seattle and go in style? And we were flying over the water, traveling at 30 knots, which is just a hair over 34.5 miles per hour in landlubber-speak. That’s cruising pretty fast on the inland Salish Sea.

Then we toured the Butchart Gardens. THAT place is most definitely a fairyland.  I can’t even find the words to explain how beautiful it is.  My cellphone photos suck, to use a technical term, so I am using images cadged from WIKIPEDIA to illustrate this:

1200px-Butchart_Sunken_Gardens

 

1200px-Butchart-gardens-002

Needless to say, after a long day of hiking the most gorgeous gardens, and then trundling all over the downtown, spending money like water in Victoria proper, I was SO ready for a lovely meal in what is really a lovely, vegan-friendly city. A long soak in the hotel hot tub, and followed by gin & tonic in the hotel lounge (light on the gin and lots of lime wedges, thank you) and this old lady was ready for bed.  I got on the internet just long enough to check my email.  I wasn’t completely out of writer-mode–I did note my ideas down in my little book while I was on the ferry.

So, while I didn’t get any writing done I had a wonderful time with my in-laws, and that’s paradise, to me.

Victoria_harbour_-_Victoria,_British_Columbia_-_2014

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