bryan suddith dot com

Counting the appetite of a 22 year old, the time change and early morning departure that was now 2,400 miles behind me, it was lunch time when the wheels touched down in the middle of the Pacific Northwest at Sea Tac airport. It had been three months since I had interviewed over the phone with my boss to be. The title sounded big, the opportunity sounded bigger, intern US Navy, Department of Morale, Welfare and Recreation, Pacific Beach Facility, Seattle Naval Station. What that meant exactly, I had no idea.

Stepping off the plane I was surprised at the temperature. Growing up in southwest Ohio breathing was especially a healthy thing to do in June. But in Seattle, even downwind from the Tacoma aroma, the air was full of pine, clean, low humidity, the breeze tempered from Lake Washington. This was great. I headed to the baggage claim hoping to find a ride to the beach and my bags simultaneous. Lumbar pack affixed, backback claimed and duffel in hand I began my search. I was hoping for a sign that read “Suddith” but found nothing in the small crowd that was now dispersing.

I called my mother, it had been almost 9 hours since we had last talked. I was alive. Seattle, the airport at least is great. No ride. I will call. Yes. I love you too. Yes I will. Okay. Bye.

After a quick search again I called the Pacific Beach facility. I got a hold of my boss and he apologized and said Harry was on his way. Gray hair, beard, Panama hat, shorts and he’s driving a white Navy van. I was warned that Harry is a bit eccentric but the ride to the beach will be great. I waited. Trying to not look like a disgruntled teen, I placed a Marc Cohn cd into my walkman and settled in for a wait.

Sure enough about an hour later Harry, the Navy driver, came busting through baggage claim. Flip flops, hat, shorts, button down Hawaiian shirt, he grabbed both my hand and my bag at the same time. He looked equal parts Eric Clapton and Jerry Garcia. Name is Harry. You hungry? Good. Lets eat. Ever been to Washington? No? Why not? Like seafood? Lets go, the van is parked illegal. Don’t worry, it has Navy tags and they won’t bother it.

Leaving the airport in a small white van with a hungry driver who possesses a carefree attitude can be dangerous while racing up I-5 into Seattle proper. Ignore the smell from Tacoma, its a paper factory, we’ll pass it again on the way to Pac Beach. Racing up the interstate I caught glimpses of Lake Washington, the Space Needle and once over my right shoulder I thought I saw a mountain poking out above the clouds. Above the clouds. Mt. Rainier. The Mt. Rainier.

Pulling off of I-5,  he moved through an older neighborhood and seemed familiar with this route.  Parking in what appeared to be an alley full of dumpsters, old boxes and trash, the van blocked the “no parking” sign from street view. My first day as an intern and I am quickly learning that Navy vans are not subject to parking laws. With a quick knock and a tug on the door, we enter into a small restaurant kitchen. Pots and pans are clanging, voices talking 0ver the hum of a big fan and the sound of a dishwasher sloshes in the background. Adjusting from the light to dark, my ears tell me that the voices aren’t speaking english.

Harry calls out for Mei Li. Only when he calls for her does the cook and dishwasher take notice of the two white guys standing in their kitchen. A short lady of Asian descent comes into the kitchen talking a million miles an hour. Speaking to both the dishwasher and to Harry simultaneous, one in English, one in her native tongue. Harry hugs her and introduces me as Brad. I try to correct him but the noise isn’t helping our communication. Mei Li brings us into the front of the restaurant. More a booth of sorts and Harry plants me at the counter.  It as that very moment that I realize that there is a flower shop right behind me. A fruit stand next to me. Harry talks with Mei Li a bit more and he disappears down the corridor.

Moving from the stool into the aisle I find that I am on the first floor of the famed Pike Place Market. People are moving about and the place is bursting with the sounds, smells and sights of a great market place. I inhale and digest my first day in Seattle.  Harry returns in just a few moments with a large package wrapped in plain paper. You like Halibut? Sure. I guess. Good.

With that the Halibut is handed over the counter to the cook and tea is brought out for us. Harry attempted to make small talk, but I couldn’t help but wonder what all had just happened since I landed. Where did the fish come from? Why did we park in the alley? Whats for lunch? When do I meet my boss? All details that would be cleared up in the weeks to follow. For now, we eat, the freshest Halibut out of water and the best fried rice I ever ate.

Somewhere in Memphis my dad just ordered the lunch plate, a meat, two sides, a roll, skip the salad, a coke, and fill this thermos with coffee to go. Amazing what a difference a few hours and airplane ride can make.