My little Dutch Excursion

Today started out a little rough. I woke up with this strange crick/lump in my neck, forgot my office keys, paid for parking twice because I forgot my keys and had to go back home, and drove around twice as much in twice the normal traffic (UW graduation + road construction + sunshine= yuck) with about half my normal patience due to the previously mentioned aggravations, not to mention the sad frustration of realizing that I lost my phone last night at Golden Gardens. What are the chances of finding your phone at the beach? That run-on was probably about as smooth as the first part of my day.

But then, I got a hold of an individual called Gordon who happened to have gotten a hold of my phone through his brother who had found it at the beach... Things were looking up. I just had to meet him to pick it up. So, as soon as I had the chance, I headed over to Ballard to find Gordon, and my phone. He lived basically under the bridge he said, by the water. So I found the general stretch of the road where his address should have been, but it wasn't really obvious, especially being in the industrial part of Ballard. Then I spotted a bike shop with people, I hoped, who would have an idea where this address might be. The owner of the Holland import bike shop invited me inside to google it.

What was I doing, he wanted to know? I mumbled something about my phone. We walked back out, and I waved and thanked him, thinking we were done. But instead he pointed to his bike and suggested that he was going to give me a ride instead. There was a big wooden passenger box attached to the front, so cool, I hopped in. I felt so Dutch. He asked me again about what I was doing down under the bridge, because he seemed concerned about me, because apparently nothing good goes on there. Do I repair phones? No... I explained that I was fetching mine. He just wanted to make sure I was going to come out alive or something.

Anyway, we eventually made our way down a gravelly path through a chain link corridor and a bunch of ailing cars to the shore. He saw a woman he recognized and asked her if Gordon lived nearby. She pointed down the dock to his boat. Ah, he lives on a boat, he might have mentioned that. Oh well. The bike man said goodbye, and I found Gordon in his boat. He gave me my phone. He was an odd fellow, but quite nice to have called me back about my phone. I thanked him and thanked him and was on my way, thoroughly amused by the entire phone mishap. In a way I'm glad I lost it, because, it was quite a little adventure getting it back.