What a day.

Late start (big surprise).
Out-thunk 26 traffic and won.
Then lost.
Then got lost.
Then took the wrong road.
Over and over and over.
Went down the wrong road and nearly got killed by a cement truck.
No, I'm not shitting you.
Long silent car ride.
Free lunch from Chumway.
Sunset in the Columbia Gorge -- fuckin' awesome.
Foam, jokes. Life is okay again.
35. Shit. I love that view. Can I own a house in the Hood River Valley?
Man this highway goes forever.
And ever.
WTF? We're still in the Hood River Valley?
*time passes*
Finally... welcome to White River.
Yeesh, no snow up here. Good thing since we don't have traction tires or chains. (Don't tell the OSP).
Does ANYONE else ever drive this highway?
Government Camp. Nearly there.
Man, another 7 miles up this narrow road to Timberline?
Look, a light up on the mountain!
Man, hope that water doesn't turn to ice before we leave.
The lodge at last. Cool. Looks bigger on TV and in books.
Um, we're supposed to have a sno-park permit to park here. Don't worry, he says, won't be here long, he says.
The bar is upstairs, he says.
Fondue with bread and... apples... and carrots... and grapes???
(Good. Okay. Gah, how old are these? Excellent and unexpected but too small, need skewers!)
Most. Expensive. Scotch. Ever. $12.50 for a Glenlivet 12 year? Next time I'll bring my own bottle.
Cool place, but man its dead. A few ski bums, a few couples. Fires are low, almost dead. Date place really, and my chauffer is NOT a date. For me anyway.
I can't enjoy my drink cause I keep worrying about there being no sno-park permit.
6PM. Scram time. Plan: get a Willy Week once we're back in the Metro area and see what's playing.
An hour later, Starschmucks in Hollywood, and no WW. Great.
Union Station. Gotta paper! Man, nothing is playing, wtf? Fake-it time.
Screw music, we'll just drink.
7PM. Jakes. Decent Manhatten. Second time today and he doesn't get carded.
Meet an Iranian and a sad strange old woman. #1 is cool, #2 is just... odd. S. discovers hot buttered rums.
Fuck me. No please, miss cocktail waitress, I wasn't being figurative. Legs up to here, reddish brunette hair, and a face like a movie star. And not the kind who get out of limos with puff daddy and no panties either.
Almost ten, scene change: 30 floors up. Drinks better. Appetizers, tho not happy hour on Friday, dammit. Worth it though.
Long conversations.
Feelin' good.
Back downstairs. Err... down elevator.
A few blocks away, and 2 maple bacon donuts later....
Fuck. Those are good. Really good. Breakfast bars how they ought to be!
Back to Jakes. This time for Mochas (best. Mocha. Anywhere. Period. Wait, that was redundant wasn't it?)
Apple caramel cake, a cigar. Not bad at all.
Home again home again jiggidy jig.
What a day!