Saturday: My day in Seattle turned out to be far more spectacular, and physically insane, than could have ever been expected. Out of bed at seven-thirty. Breakfast and some Internet time after a quick shower. I arrived right as the Experience Music Project was opening, at ten, and found that I practically had the entire place to myself for the first few hours. The EMP provides an entertaining look at Seattle’s music history, the general enjoyment of music, and of course, the man and the legend of Jimi Hendrix. Currently, the special exhibit at the EMP is a collection of concert poster artwork from all different eras, venues, and styles. Very cool. They had everything from early Elvis posters, to sixties psychedelic, to modern rock bands, but the focus of the exhibit was on the art of the posters.

One portion of the museum is dedicated to playing live music in sound-proof booths. Karaoke was in full effect.

While at the EMP, I ran into my Hostel roommate and his sister, who consequently is a concert poster artist, and they happened to have a friend with an extra ticket to the Bumbershoot Music Festival that she was willing to part with for twenty dollars. Bumbershoot is described as, "the mother of all arts festivals," with the primary attraction being the eleven simultaneous music stages that are active continuously throughout the Labor Day weekend. This years lineup featured: Hawthorne Heights, Blondie, AFI, Spoon, The New Pornographers, Kanye West, Steve Miller Band, Atmosphere, and A Tribe Called Quest. Sadly, I only witnessed one day. So, anyways, at around two-thirty, I saw Blondie do all their classics on the main stage. “Heat of Glass” tore the house down… It really did. Then went up the Space Needle, which was exactly what you would expect. The views of Seattle, the Sound, and surrounding areas were spectacular, because I was lucky enough to be there, “on the clearest day of the year,” according to one of the Needle’s employees. As far as a tourist destination, the Space Needle is worth both the time and the money.

I rallied myself to go back to downtown Seattle for dinner and a little more “tourist” experience. Because all tourists naturally gravitate towards Pike Plaza, the United States’ first outdoor farmer’s market, when visiting Seattle, I couldn’t help myself and went to the Pike Plaza Bar & Grill. The Steak Dip sandwich was good. The clam chowder was excellent, but the potato chunks were far too large for the cup the soup came in. After deeking in the 1st ever Starbucks and replenishing my caffeine level, it was back to Bumbershoot for Yellowcard and AFI. Yellowcard was strange. I’m still trying to figure out if I like their unique sound, or if I was just interested in the novelty of having a violin player in a rock band. AFI was quite an experience. The average age of the show must have been 16. Mainly girls dressing in all black, with black hair, makeup, and attitudes. This seemed over-the-top ironic when AFI came out on stage dressed in all white. Now's a good time to get black clothing at Seattle thrift stores. I promise you it is not the same AFI that played at The Vets Hall six years ago. Instead of indulging in the moshing with thousands of high schoolers, I had a good time keeping a low profile, which is something I would have never done when AFI was still a “punk-rock” band. I was literally on my feet for 12 out of 14 hours of the day in Seattle, and all that was before driving to Spokane.

Sunday: Today was a driving day of epic proportions. After going to AFI on Saturday evening I figured since I didn’t have a place to stay in Seattle, was wide-eyed and jittery from Red Bull and Starbuck’s, and my ears were ringing too uncontrollably to sleep or socialize, and would be for the next few hours, I decided to get a jump on the drive from Seattle to Yellowstone. I was able to make it all the way to Spokane, which is clear across the state or Washington, and slept in my car in the furthest corner of a Red Lion Hotel parking lot — dark, quiet, and a little creepy. Upon awakening I was pleasantly surprised by how nice of a downtown, and river area Spokane possessed. All I was really interested in, however, was a hearty breakfast and an early start. Breakfast commenced around seven-thirty, and for those of you who know my sleeping tendencies that should be an astonishing hour indeed.

Frank’s Diner, which was my first eatery experience out of the book “Road Food,” provided the kind of hearty breakfast that you would expect heading into middle America. Four egg omlets, hash brown, grilled onions, english muffin, and coffee, even if you don't ask for it. The counter is definitely the place to sit, so you can watch the quick order chef whip out all the eggs, pancakes, french toast, and hash browns that are ordered in a methodical, fast-paced flurry. The diner is in a turn-of-the-century presidential viewing railroad car, so it only seats about thirty, and makes for a fun, throwback, lively atmosphere. The waitresses were young, cute, but way way way too bubbly for that early in the moring, so I read the sports section. Frank's is worth looking into if you ever happen to wake up cramped in the back of a car in Spokane and crave an oversized breakfast.

Following breakfast, I drove past some amazing, and not so amazing, places today. First of all, raise your hand if you knew that there is a town caller Crackerville, Montana about one hundred and seventy miles north-west of Yellowstone. Yeah, I didn’t either, but it was funny to see. Entering Yellowstone was pleasant, but not spectacular. Some nice rivers, interesting rock for formations, and broad plains decorate the drive through Idaho, Montana, and Wyoming, but it is not until you get pretty deep into the park that you see the natural wonders that you drove hundreds of miles for. By the way, if you are heading to Yellowstone, you might as well drop into Manhattan and Amsterdam. They're all together so it would make for one hell of a vacation.

Tonight, as I lie on my second makeshift, back-seat bed in a National Park, I’m beginning to realize that I may have parked on a slant and am slowly sliding towards the back of the car. But I’m already too comfy to fix the current slope. It's strange how when you are out in the wilderness basically unprepared you notice simple things you don't have that you take for granted in everyday life. Like: It would be cool to have a spoon, since I have all this cereal. Oh, well. Not exactly roughing it, but definitely “camping.”