Saturday, April 09, 2022

Spokane

As usual, I omit the family business, except to note that the departed may be described as one who was "faithful in her generation."

I wished I had brought a map on the flight. I couldn't recall the rivers--or where, in Arid-zona, rivers maybe were once. On the Phoenix-Spokane leg the Grand Canyon was amazing. I mentioned to my seat-mate that I could enjoy it from here, but if you put me on the ground, on the rim, I couldn't.

I looked up the crime map before going to Spokane, and then where my hotel was, and decided that cultivating alertness and a confident air would be useful. In the event, there were few pedestrians in the area.

Montvale seems like a contradictory name for anything. It was a nice old hotel with an elegant central lounge and good artwork. And a giant curved screen TV in the bedroom which I didn't bother turning on. I got back to the hotel well after midnight my time, but woke up at 6 my time=4am. Blinking red lights through the blinds seemed odd, but I figured it wasn't my problem. At 4:30 they were still blinking, and pulling back the blinds revealed a 2-alarm fire a half a block away--flames shooting well above the roofs.

The elevated train tracks in the way made the usual pump engines less than useful, and two tall aerials were doing most of the work. What looked like a tornado of smoke tilted off the top corner of one of the buildings--it suggested something wild happening inside the building, but it turned out to be a chimney effect from the alley between warehouses. I made careful note of the wind direction as illustrated by the trajectories of flaming bits of whatever, and began regretting that I hadn't bought the insurance for the rental car. (The car was relatively safe inside a high-walled lot, but exposed to the sky and things falling therefrom.)

In the morning I moseyed down the street and looked down the little alley which was the lost building's only access, and thanked the firemen I met. (A squatter probably started the fire.)

That afternoon someone assured me the news had said the fire was in a parking garage. Such is news.

The area away from the city is beautiful, but I'm assured that it has its downsides in forest fire season.

The terrain has its ups and downs, which has its downsides in snow season.

I figure if there's a bail bond business on one of the main streets, business must be going very well.

The family used to see white-tail in the neighborhood, but now pretty much nothing but mule-deer. And a moose down by the river. One does not monkey with moose.

The Spokane airport's roof is supported by concrete struts that swoop upward at the peak. They must be heavily reinforced--concrete doesn't handle tension well.

The return trip was a bit more complicated--the plane proferred had some maintenance issues and rather than do an inshallah checklist they flew a replacement in. I got to Denver too late for my flight. As soon as I stepped out of the terminal somebody lit up. I haven't smelled that much weed since the student union at UICC. On my morning walk the stench appeared with nobody nearby, and I only noticed later the weed shop half a block across the street. IM-ns-HO we've enough problems with alcohol and adding more impairments seems problematic.

The terrain coming into Denver had very curious features--fields with a quarter of it ridged about and unplowed, for instance. When we got low enough you could see the oil bobber pumps, and all became clear.

2 comments:

Assistant Village Idiot said...

Bailbondsman prominent. Another local sign to look for is if billboard advertising is being done or is allowed to go blank. It is on the margins of of cost efficiency, and so is a leading indicator of things looking up or going down, both for the type of business in general, and the region's economy as a whole.

james said...

And whether signage is systematically un-repainted. That's more of a local indicator, of course, but is another one you can spot easily enough at night. Like grass in the parking lots.