Seattle: Walking from Capitol Hill towards Pike's Place

Seattle, for all it's many acres of parks and labyrinth of bike lanes and trails, is a bit of a challenge at times when it comes to parking. Some days, you get lucky-maybe that particular day of the week street parking is free, and if you're really lucky it might be unlimited, but generally speaking a two-hour limit in exchange for a free place to park isn't such a bad bargain these days. When free parking is, unfortunately, not an option, you'll have to look towards pay-to-park, whether it's a lot that charges by the hour, a meter you can pay by phone, or a covered garage. In our case, the van is too tall for most of the covered parking garages, so that option is automatically out, and knocks a lot of potential parking spots out of the running. Capitol Hill is a pretty popular neighborhood, with a lot of apartment complexes and homes dotting the narrow streets, so it's often packed. If you're patient, and are willing to shell out a few bucks, however, you can find parking. We managed to secure a spot in this colorful lot, where the van's spot was paid for before safely locked up the vehicle. From here, we ventured out, aiming to get to Pike's Place Market, eventually. It was another nice, sunny day, which is a rare gift this time of year, so we took advantage of it and enjoyed our stroll. There was a lot to take in between the van and the Waterfront, after all; from the Jimi Hendrix statue rocking out on Broadway, to the curious nests of people without homes congregating under a bridge, even some serious demolition work going on, and a Christmas tree to top it all off (this was pre-X-Mas day). It was a pretty serious walk, one that took us all the way down the water's edge and back to Capitol Hill, and by the end of the day we were pretty pooped! It was well worth it, though. Sure, we eventually found a lot closer to Pike's Place that we could have squeezed the van into, but we wouldn't have taken in nearly so many different sights. Sometimes it's better to slow down and take it all in with a stride.  

Vegas: F*ck you. I'm trying to have a good time

Say what you will about Frank Sinatra and the Rat-Pack, and I don't give a rat's ass what any of those headlining mega-stars that adorn any given showroom on the Las Vegas Strip on any given night might hope to say, you've got to look out to the people on the streets to get the real read on Vegas. What sentence better sums up the ethos behind the city of sin and revelling in hedonistic excesses quite like his sign? Fuck you. I'm trying to have a good time. That could be the advertising slogan for the city, where your entertainment and depravity is of the utmost priority! Behaviors and ensembles that would be considered abhorrent or embarrassing back home are not only given the light of day but a green-light pass as every casino's glittering orifice promises to indulge you in excess, whether your poison be booze, boobs, or buffets. Eat to your triple-bypass-coronary-heart's delight and load up plate after plate with greasy glistening goodies, fresh from the kitchens! You can even get paddled for not finishing your towering portions of food at the Heart Attack Grill, if you're into getting food-shamed in front of strangers, because why not. Not enough alcohol in your Fat Tuesday's tower of neon-colored-oblivion? Get some extra shots in that beeyotch! Because, why not, baby? It's Vegas! If, in your pursuit of having a good time, things might get out of hand, never you fear. That's what it's all about, after all, isn't it? Should you find yourself laying spread-eagle on your belly upon a cold linoleum floor in front of the bathrooms at Harrah's, awash in the highlighter-hues of your drink of doom, security and medical staff will be there to hoist you back up again and jettison you off to a hospital for quick tending to if need be...if you're a tourist, of course. If, on the other hand, you look a bit more like our friend above, a victim of a good time that derailed hard, security will be happy to escort you from the premises expeditiously. Wouldn't want the out of towners to get a glimpse of their potential future, after all, should their good time get out of hand. 

But fuck you. I'm trying to have a good time.

Vegas: People (and pigeons) of the Strip

People in the West tend to talk a lot of crap about pigeons, calling them "rats with wings" (which is in and of itself offensive to us people who've had pet rats before), "vermin" and other unpleasant monickers that the poor little birds have done naught to earn. It's not the pigeons' faults that the relentless spread of human civilization has encroached upon natural lands where wild pigeons would have happily gone about their business far removed from most human activity, though the pigeons in the Americas today are all the descendants of domesticated pets. The original, indigenous pigeon, the passenger pigeon, went extinct a long time ago.  I'm sure the pigeons would rather not have to eat our garbage and instead prefer to feast on fat worms, seeds and grubs out of the grasses and fields, fresh and natural, juicy. Coincidentally, though, the spread of humans was a big factor in why the pigeons (and doves) were able to proliferate as well as they have, due in large part to the aforementioned domestication. For eons they were bred for food, their chubby little nestlings (aka squab) made an easy protein source for the people living in growing cities throughout the Middle East and Europe at the advent of civilization... then they were kept as pets, admired for their monotonous pairings, messenger and navigation abilities, and the simple lives that made them easy to cage. Now, instead of being the food source themselves, pigeons are able to scavenge from the endless detritus that collects around any large human city. In this much, they at least share an obvious kinship with rats, who found their way to the Americas onboard shipping vessels and were not originally native to the lands. They've done exceptionally well and endured due to their symbiotic, or at least reasonably tenable, relationship with humans.  

People without homes, or the homeless, also share this kinship with the misunderstood animals aforementioned. Any large enough group of humans gathered into a township or city will begin to accumulate their own human vestigials, lingering around the periphery of the acceptable spaces to squeak out a living on the remains and shrapnel of others, largely trying to skirt by unnoticed by the masses who would maybe try to stamp them out. 

Vegas: People and pets on the Promenade (part 2)

One of the cheesiest, and possibly also most alarming, things Antho ever told me, was the time he excitedly described to me a homeless couple he had seen- while they were both quite obviously living on the street, destitute and broke, they were clearly and unquestionably infatuated with each other and seemed beyond content despite a situation most of us would never consider a remotely tolerable turn of fate. He saw it as a poetic image, a testament to the undying power of love to overcome any and all challenges despite any situation it might find itself in... I saw it as a bit of a terrifying indicator for just how low he was willing to let his standards of living fall so long as he had me tagging along to bolster him, but I digress. He's a dreamer at heart, a fantastic, whimsical, flashy theatrical type who was raised on a steady and heavy diet of Hollywood films while I tend to be the logistician who grumbles, gets a migraine, and sorts through the realities of the matter like some impression of an adult in an effort to sway the tides of time in my favor. Homelessness, while not something I consider a desirable or even romantic notion, is an inarguable reality of modern society. I've seen, and interacted with, homeless people in Japan as well as the United States, and witnessed their camps while in Korea... Each country approaches things in their own ways, and each homeless person's story is unique, too, so it's not as though a simplistic blanket approach could ever work for everyone. I do have to say that I rather like Japan's approach, which seems a respectful distance and non-interference. When police want to evict a homeless encampment on public land, they're forced to abide by the same procedural processes as in an eviction. Most homeless are left to sleep in peace, and the time I did stop and offer a hot coffee and a sandwich to a homeless man in Tokyo, he was shocked by the gesture and asked incredulously where I had come from. He'd made me laugh on a difficult morning, so I figured it an equitable exchange, but this does make me wonder how far indifference stretches before it turns to a cold shoulder. 

 All photos in this post were taken by Antho! 

Vegas: Living on the street in the city of Sin

This human pictured above, this is Peanut. He's originally from New Mexico, according to a conversation he and Antho had one afternoon. Peanut likes to drink alcohol, like a lot of alcohol, a hobby he's had since he was a wee little baby when his mum would put booze in his bottle to keep him quiet and sleepy. Perhaps this makes it no surprise, then, that Peanut is now a homeless young adult at the ripe old age of 23, and he's right on track for needing a kidney replacement within the next year or risk a more or less certain death. And so it goes, another homeless young American wasting the dwindling days of his short and brutal life here on the streets of Sin City, where he points to tourists and tells them if he thinks they're hot between swigs of malt liquor. I mean, we could wax poetic and try to write an optimistic tale of how his future will invariably be brighter and better than his current lot in life, but for people like Peanut that would be a bold-faced lie. It's highly unlikely that there's any sort of GoFundMe campaign to get Peanut a kidney, because who is worried about a homeless kid like Peanut? At the end of the day, he's just another face blending into the background, another awkward aversion of the eyes for the residents and tourists alike. Homelessness is not an easy thing to fix and there's an incredibly complex web of variables and choices coalescing together to land someone in such an unfortunate position, and how much of that is fated and how much of it is personal manifest destiny is hard to decipher at a quick glimpse. 

It takes a whole lot more than a quick glimpse to work out a solution to the problem of homelessness, and here in the city of sin, it's an especially unfortunate situation to wind up in. Not only is the city itself rather hostile to the homeless, who wind up camped out on the walkways and stoops of downtown, but the environment too is extremely harsh and very dangerous. A lot of our homeless in Las Vegas have taken to hiding underground, making their homes in the drainage tunnels that exist to spare citizens the brunt of the flash flooding, and coincidentally end up drowned when those floods find their way to their intended corridors. It's a lose-lose situation, though some intriguing new ideas have been added to the mix in an effort to help alleviate the issue, or at least divert it to less tourist-prone areas. Whether this is really the right solution is yet to be determined, but again, this isn't an easy issue with a clear solution. Unfortunately for Peanut, it's probably too little, too late.  

Photos in this post provided by Antho Jay...