The Bad News: Seattle Public Schools declared any absences from school today will be declared "unexcused." What to do? Are the McGuire's rule followers or renegades? What will they remember twenty years from now: what they did in school on a given day, or trekking downtown to celebrate the second sports national title ever in Seattle?
I ask my husband what he thinks, mostly out of curiosity. "Of course they should go to school." That was not the answer I was hoping for. He thinks McGuire's are rule followers. I decide my husband needs more fun in his life.
The Good News: Seattle Public Schools realizes they will be giving 50% of the student body unexcused absences and allows principals to decide. Principals, being politicians, promise excused absences at my children's schools, a future Super Bowl win, and a chicken in every pot. We are going.
Before we leave, I walk the dog. I walk him for 45 minutes figuring I don't know when we will return. I also figure a walk through Ravenna Park will provide tranquility before a day that will be largely unpredictable. I am a little nervous, as I tend to be more a Baggins Hobbit, but I decide to be Tookish today and embrace adventure. Sort of. Maybe. We'll see.
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| Ravenna Park this morning. |
The Bad News: The estimates of the number of people expected downtown change from 300,000 to 500,000. The extra ~200,000 must be SPS students and families. City officials recommend public transportation, which is fine. I pick my daughter up from school and wait for the bus. At 10:45, the number 16 arrives, packed to the gills. The driver, an Asian man with gray hair in late fifties with Urkel style glasses, politely tells the dozen people at the stop that he can't take any more riders unless they are going downtown for a doctor's appointment or are disabled. My son offers to break his leg so we can get on the next bus. After waiting for a total of a half an hour, we punt.
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| Urkel and his signature eyewear. Big glasses are back in style, or so I've heard. |
The Good News: As I pull up to drop off my daughter, I chat with another mom. I've never met her before, and asked if she was going to the parade.
"Yes," she said. "Would you like a ride?" Honestly, I was not fishing for a ride. I was mostly curious to see if I should drive down myself, and her answer was going to be a data point. She plans to park near Eastlake and then walk downtown. I move my car from the drop-off lane, and take her up on her offer.
The Bad News: If there aren't enough busses to get us there, how will we get home? Plus, my car is in Wallingford and I live near the U District. Do I try to catch a bus home or back to Wallingford?
The Good News: Eh. I'll figure that out later. Everyone else downtown is going to be in a pickle, too.
The Bad News: It is now 11:10. The parade was supposed to start at 11:00. I am hoping to make it downstream enough so we can see something. I am not confident about where I am going, so I follow the South Lake Union Tram tracks down Westlake and hope for the best.
The Good News: The boy and I huff it down Westlake and make it to 4th and Stewart around 11:30. I am shocked I figured this out without my phone or GPS. And we have not missed the parade.
The Bad News: The boy can't see and it is cold.
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| The boy at the parade. |
The Bad News: Another mom warns me there is a security guard there who will tell him to get off the fence.
The Good News: We decide to wait until the parade starts before he climbs the fence and bet the guard will be busy watching the parade, too. The boy weighs about 70 pounds. He is the perfect age where he is strong enough to climb the fence without getting hurt, and light enough not to damage it.
The Bad News: It is 12:30, cold and the parade hasn't started yet.
The Good News: I packed sandwiches for lunch.
The Bad News: The kids around us are eying our food. I brought a shoulder purse with a zipper to deter pickpockets. Now I am worried that the little boy next to me will offer to arm-wrestle me for my leftover hamburger from dinner last night. I am also worried that I would lose. (In retrospect, I should have offered the kids some of the scones I made earlier this morning. Then there is the old rule of not taking candy from strangers. I suppose it applies to scones, too.)
The Good News: The parade rolls by starting at 12:40.
The Bad News: The boy can't see well. What little we can see are chartered buses with tinted window. This is possibly the worst parade ever. The boy is disheartened and cold, and he wants to leave.
The Good News: We step back a bit, and can see better. Behind the portable cell tower is a small truck with a flatbed. People are climbing on the sides of the truck to see. The boy climbs up. A young woman asked the guard if it is okay to stand in the truck. The security guard gives the smallest nod possible and a shrug. The boy climbs in the truck too, with a great view of the parade. I decide to stay on the ground and let the kids see. Since twenty people are now in the truck and not on the fence, I have a small line of sight where I can see what is happening. The boy is delighted. He saw Beast Mode, Russell Wilson, Pete Carroll, Richard Sherman, Golden Tate, a bunch of other guys whose names I don't remember, and the Lombardi Trophy. This is what I saw.
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| A nice conifer in downtown Seattle. |
The Bad News: The parade ends and the boy is cold and hungry, and wants to head home. I have to figure out how we are going to get there. I see thousands of people pouring in the direction of the bus tunnel. I decide to head north, against the crowd and towards the Space Needle and Seattle Center. The parade started there, and I hope the crowds have cleared. There is a good bus stop there where lots of routes start. I hope my gamble pays off.
The Good News: I've been downtown enough to know there is a Top Pot Donuts on 5th Ave. It is on the way to the Seattle Center.
The Bad News: The line at Top Pot is long. I check the map on my cell phone to see how long it would be if we were to walk home. The answer: 4.1 miles or about an hour and a half. I hope the donut is enough food in addition to the sandwich for the boy. I try to see how far it is to my kids' schools in Wallingford (and where I've parked the car), but the cell phone coverage is down. I hope the donut is enough bribery if I have to tell the boy we are walking home.
The Good News: The long line gives us time to warm up. They must have been expecting the crowd because there are lots of people behind the counter and the line moves quickly. We get donuts, hot chocolate and a decaf mocha. We follow the monorail track to the Seattle Center.
The Bad News: I can't remember if the 74, which has a stop around the corner from my house, runs during the day. I am thinking it doesn't. If we get there and there isn't an appropriate bus, I've just walked about mile in the opposite direction of my home.
The Good News: We get to the bus stop, and there about six buses there. I check to see which ones are heading to either the U District or Wallingford. We see the 32 which says it is going to the U District, which is good. I keep walking until I get to the first bus, which is stopped at the traffic light. It is the 16, with the same driver we saw earlier with the Urkel glasses! Score! This bus will take me directly to Wallingford and back to my car. I knock on the bus door and smile. The bus is full and I hope he lets us on. The boy thinks I am impolite for knocking when the bus has pulled six feet away from the stop. I lived in Chicago without a car for almost ten years. I know how to ride a bus. Anything goes.
And we are on!!!
The Bad News: I have to stand behind the yellow line behind the driver's seat or the driver will "get in trouble." I don't really fit, but I put my shoe over the line to honor the letter if not the spirit of the law. I thought better of telling him when I lived in Chicago that I often rode standing on the bottom step next to the door, or up against the windshield. Sometimes I stood so close to the driver I could look down the back of his shirt and read the tag. I don't tell him that in Chicago eight people could fit between the yellow line and the door. If I did, he might kick me off, and that would be bad.
The Good News: Some people decide the bus is going too slow, and get off. A nice woman with two boys in the first bench tells them to squinch and let my son sit. I move and am in compliance with the yellow line rule. The driver doesn't need to throw me off the bus. (I later find out the nice woman is a police officer.) The bus moves slowly until we hit Aurora which is wide open. People on the bus cheer. On the ride, I learn that people came to the parade from Missoula, Montana and Alaska. I also heard someone estimated there were 1.2 million people at the parade, which is about one third of the population of the Seattle Metro area. (Later estimates were about 700,000, which is greater than the population within the Seattle city limits.)
The boy gets back to school with an hour and a half to spare. He is tired, but decides that telling the five kids left in the school about his adventure will boost his mood.
I get home. Our dog, Fox, is delighted to see me. After walking the dog in the morning and then being outside on my feet for five hours in 32 degree weather, I am glad to return. I look forward to some quiet time, warming up with a cup of tea and resting my sore feet.
The Bad News: The dog wants to go for a walk.
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