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Eric reminded me (100 times, sorry dude) to post some pictures from our trip last month to Seattle, so here they are. As usual, I wish we’d taken more, but as usual, I was enjoying the beautiful scenery, pleasant climate, and kind people so much that pictures were an afterthought.

We went to the big farmer’s market downtown, which had a lot of tasty-smelling foods and standard funky nick-nacks. Here’s what it looks like from across the street with a bunch of camera-loving cars:

Not a hell of a lot to look at, but nice atmosphere.

Wandering around downtown, we found all kinds of art (or “ahhhrt,” which is defined as “art we don’t understand”). So answer me this: What’s better than your favorite movie? Your favorite movie painted on a pig’s ass!

The pictures don’t really show it, but we spent about half our trip in Canada. Despite the fact that I knew we would be going to Canada, I neglected to bring my passport. We thought that would cause trouble, but it didn’t. I figured at best I’d get the third degree going out and coming back, but all they did was ask me where I was born. They shouldn’t be so cautious anyway. First, there’s nothing to blow up in Canada. Second, I’m from New York. If I wanted to blow stuff up, I’d stay there.

From Vancouver, we drove as far north as we could until we got tired and had to go back to Seattle. We made it to Whistler, which I rather liked (even though it was a little tourist-trappy). If this view were a sammich, I’d eat it and ask for seconds:

All in all, it was a good trip. I just wish it had lasted longer, considering the flight was akin to flying to Europe or some other exotic destination. This is especially true given the overnight flight home delayed landing for two hours because of a hurricane that hit Brooklyn while we were in the air. I didn’t sleep on the plane at all because I was in the emergency exit row and couldn’t get my lean on.

Actually, the flight there sucked too. I was situated near three screaming children from three sets of parents who have no fucking clue how to properly care for their offspring. From diaper-changing in the aisle to electronic toys with the volume turned all the way up, it was a disgusting display of survival of the most inconsiderate.

Some friends and I decided that it would be a smart move for an airline to offer singles-only flights (a.k.a. no-kids flights) or special family flights that offer a small discount if you choose them. That way all the revolting filth of humanity who think it’s reasonable to fly long distances with small children can all be together… and I can have some peace. In a similar vein, there should also be fattie flights, I-like-to-talk-to-strangers-on-planes flights, and geriatric flights. So how ’bout it, JetBlue?

Complete set of pictures (Once again, if you want to be flickr friends, befriend platkat. As you can see, I’m a cheap photo-snappin’ whore who won’t go pro. But I’m fun!)