I spent the weekend in Spokanistan and all I got was this bitchin' Boo Radley's T-shirt

In heavy holiday traffic, under darkening skies, we nearly collided with it. A genuine Clown Car.

Until I saw it, I had no idea the Shriners had their very own Calliope Van. But there it was. I nearly drove us into several accidents while manuevering the car so my wife could take pictures. At first we were sure the driver spotted our attempts and was driving evasively to foil our plans, but when we pulled next to the van we realized this was not possible since the Shriner behind the wheel was apparently mummified. This was our first encounter with clowns and calliopes on the trip, but certainly not the last.

Hmm. Now that I look at the picture more closely, it's clear that nobody is driving the van.

Our first stop, as with any decent, respectable trip across the state, was in Ellensburg. I drive through a couple of times a year and each time am relieved to see the majestic Thunderbird Motel sign (and the somewhat less impressive motel that accompanies it) still exists. I celebrated by buying 2 pounds of ribs and eating all of them in between Ellensburg and Vantage. The stomachache was so worth it, even if the ribs weren't as good as I remembered them from last time.

Our first stop was Manito Park, all fresh and clean and damp from the recent rain. The lilacs were already past their prime, but the maples and other vegetation were still sporting the tender luminous green of spring. It wasn't difficult to envision couples from a century ago, weighed down by corsets and top hats, strolling across the rolling hills and underneath stately pines.

This was followed by a depressing visit to the Japanese gardens. The pond there used to have two bridges: one straight bridge, and one that zigzagged across the water's surface, which tradition holds prevents evil spirits from crossing the water. The crooked bridge has been removed, and the results are very apparent, as the gardens are now sadly neglected and overrun with booger children.

The river was as high as I've ever seen it, and the mighty Spokan Falls thundered. Legend says that the ghosts of horses leap out of the water at the falls. I have seen it for myself and tell you the stories are true. If you look carefully, you can see ghostly piles of horse crap floating downriver.

For the first time ever, I rode the gondola over the Falls. It was totally bitchin.

The weather darkened, but the gulls did not mind. And neither did we, because when the rain came down we were inside getting dizzy on the carrousel. My favorite part of the carrousel was not the incessant calliope music or shrieking children. No, it was the homeless people who tried to pretend like they were paying customers so they could be inside and out of the rain. Ah, Spokane.

Past, present, and future of Spokane, envisioned through the eyes of the 70s and reflected in the windows of the Opera House. Pardon me, I mean The INB Performing Arts Center.

A parting shot of Spokane in all her ominosity. Just minutes before this picture was taken, we saw a DeLorean pull into Dick's, clearly a sign of the coming Apocalypse, or maybe just confirmation that everybody in Spokane eats at Dick's.

Basement in Spokane, Basement in Spokane, Basement in Spokane!

¶ Tuesday, May 30, 2006