What? Washington?

So today I find myself in Washington, not exactly where I had planned to be. The original idea was that Devynn would attend her class in North Bend, while I check out the local disc golf courses and maybe a little bit of shopping. To my excitement, I found that there was a 9-hole disc golf course located in North Bend, and another 9-hole course in the nearby town of Coos Bay.

Alas, this is not how the day would go. Just before 6am, while I was still gathering up my things to go, Devynn comes into my room to inform me that she was mistaken. This class she signed up for is not in North Bend, Oregon, which is a drive of about 2 1/2 to 3 hours, it is actually in North Bend, Washington, a drive of about 4 1/2 to 5 hours. So not only were we needing new directions, but we were also pushed for time, as the class was to begin at10am.

We left immediately, I felt we had a chance of getting there in less time than predicted. I drove us up, speeding along the way where I could. (It's a lot easier to drive fast when there is no one on the road!) Along the way I had my mom look up local disc golf courses online so that I may still be able to play.

I wasn't very hopeful. The last time I tried finding a course in Washington was when Devynn and I came up to Seattle for a book signing. It ended up being a long drive, and since we took the train up, it was expensive too. Not only that, but the course was not well marked so I didn't end up playing the entire thing.

My mom began reading to me the nearby courses. The first one was in a place called Ravendell, a private 9-hole course only 13 miles away from North Bend, Washington. The next course, also private, was an 18-hole course about 20 miles away, and after that one a public 9-hole course about 25/30 miles away.

I weighed the options in my head as my mom read more information about each of the courses. At some point she mentions that the private 18-hole course is Crystal Mountain. Now it just so happens that I was recently talking to a guy aobut that course, in the interest that I might do the artwork for the upcoming tournament.

I am excited again! This is even better than playing the two little courses in Southern Oreogn! Now I'll get the chance to see this course and possibly get some great ideas for the artwork! My mom called and left a message, funny that they aren't open at 6:30 in the morning.

Happily continuing on our way, a non-stop 4 hour drive to the place in North Bend where Devynn needs to be. My mom calls back, letting me know that I can play Crystal Mountain and Dee is ther person she talked to. As fate would have it, Dee is also the person I had been talking to about the artwork, so what a great opportunity this was turning out to be!

With 8 minutes to spare, I got Devynn to her destination on time. Now to find more specific directions to this course. I called my parents, and upon further investigation, we discover that Crystal Mountain is not the mere 20 miles away like we thought, it is actually 68 miles away. So much for that idea. With no good attempt at finding another course, I decide to go find some fuel for my car and get some food.

One good thing that came of this trip is that I finally learned how to use my car's navigation system. I figured out where the nearest little town was and went to find some fuel in Snoqualmie.

Usually gas stations provide little means for an amuzing story but as I pulled up I remembered that I am no longer in Oregon, and therefore no longer in the state that requires the attendant to pump your fuel for you. I pull up to the pumps, pop the gas lid and look to the machine for answers. Wonderful! Directions on the screen! "Insert card or pull handle for cash." Ok, that's easy enough. I take out my credit card and try to shove it in the machine correctly ... "Try again." I put the card back in and remove it quickly as the instructions say, and again an error. I flip the card so the strip faces the other way and the machine starts beeping at me and reads "Get assistance from the gas attendant." I frantically push the cancel button to try and stop the thing, it silences the beeping. I look around the station, half hoping that a gas attendant does come to help because I have no idea what I am doing.

The screen goes back to the original message, which must mean it is safe for me to try again. I insert the card the flipped way this time, remove quickly, and watch the screen. Success! I look to the screen for further instruction. "Lift handle to pump gas." I remove the gas cap, as I try desperately to remember the one other time I had to pump my own gas but thankfully had someone to help me. I grab the nozzle and put it in my tank and lift the handle on the nozzle. Nothing. I fiddle with the nozzle a bit, figure out that there is a way to lock the handle on the nozzle, but still nothing. I must be missing something. I glance around the gas station again, this time looking to see who looks like the friendliest person I could ask for help. There's a guy with a vehicle behind me who is just finishing up his gas, he looks at me but doesn't seem like the helping type. Two guys with motorcycles on the other side of the pumps seem ok. They're older so maybe they'll be friendlier? I take one last look around the gas station and it seems those guys are my best bet. (Not to mention the guy parked behind me is now driving away.)

I walk over and ask for some help and they both leave their bikes and come assist me. I blame my ignorance on being from Oregon and they seem to understand. They tell me they have the opposite problem when they go to Oregon. They try to figure out how I need help and then one of the guys notice. I haven't lifted the handle. The handle refered to on the screen is the handle on the actual gas machine. The gas finally starts being pumped and my humiliation is nearly over with.

I was right about these guys being friendly. They make some conversation with me, tell me a story they heard about a guy from Oregon who pumped regular unleaded fuel into his diesel car. My tank is full, I thank them and bid them goodbye and now begin m quest for food.

Again, turning to my under-used navigation system, I find a place in town called Twede's Cafe, which has 50 different kinds of burgers! I tried the Cordon Bleau hamburger, it was great. The rest of the time I hung around town, looked at a bunch of factory stores including Nike.

Sometime after I was done eating, my mom called me to see how I was doing. She knew I was disappointed in how the day was going and suggested that we still go over to Crystal Mountain and stay the night there. After some conversation about it, I agree.

At 2 o' clock I go to pick up Devynn (which doesn't end up getting done until 3 o'clock.) I inform her of the plan and set my navigation system to direct me to Crystal Mountain. About 2 1/2 hours later, we arrive, check-in to the hotel and rest on the bed for a bit. After a few minutes of rest, we decide to go check out this place, it is after all a ski resort. I grab my map of the disc golf course and we go look for hole 1.

After a while of walking around we head back to the hotel and I get a call on my cell phone from Dee (who was playing disc golf earlier and was not at the desk when we checked in.) We decide to meet at the restaurant to discuss the artwork for the tournament.

I meet with Dee, and we talk a little about the artwork, but more about what sort of arrangement can be made for payment. I wasn't intending on getting paid for this sort of thing, it being my first real job in this line of work. We came to the agreement that we would do a little trading, I didn't have to pay for mine and Devynn's room for that night and if I decide to come up for the tournament or any other time I could get the room taken care of.

The deal was made. The next morning I went and played the course, losing 2 discs, my beloved dragon and one of my new favorites the sidewinder. Devynn did some exploring around the mountain. After that we drove home. What a weekend that ended up being! So much for planning ahead!