Jack and Vanguard

Saturday, September 5, 1998
One year ago: Career Girls

Plans for this weekend didn't firm up until this morning. Jack had thought that he might have to go back to Eastern Washington to pick up his truck, which had broken down on a family vacation during the last week of August. But he was able to put that off till next Tuesday, and take his older daughter down to Olympia for a weekend with her mother, so he would be able to come with me to Vanguard as he had been wanting to do. And, bonus! He had bought two 1-day passes for Bumbershoot, so he could accompany me there on Sunday! I was totally psyched to get his mail letting me know; I don't like having things up in the air, as regular readers know. I asked him to call or email me for final details when he got back from Olympia.

Since I wasn't clear on what the logistics of the next few days would be, I spent the day today cleaning up my place! Nothing like a guest every few weeks to enforce a minimum standard of neatness and cleanliness.

Of course, Jack called while I was in the bathtub. It's just like washing the car if you want it to rain; expecting a call? Get in the tub and the phone is sure to ring! I called him back and told him about an optional part of the evening, a pre-Vanguard dinner.

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It was so good to see Jack! It's been a few weeks since we went to the movies. He came inside so we could discuss logistics for the evening and tomorrow. I put forward a rather bold proposition, in the interests of avoiding a lot of late-night driving and getting to Bumbershoot tomorrow in a timely manner: Jack should drive to dinner, then to Vanguard, then to his place, where I would spend the night. Then I revealed that I was already packed! Jack was a bit startled, but I reminded him that I'd already seen the place, so lack of preparation wasn't a factor, and that a self-invited guest really couldn't complain about the conditions. (But if it had been a problem for me to stay over, it would still all have worked out, I'm sure.) So he agreed that that's what we'd do. Wise man! Just go along with my ideas and schemes, and we will get along just fine. A good general rule for everyone I know -- just do as I say, please.

We went to dinner (Jack is borrowing his mother's station wagon -- older, but lots of gadgets, including the voice that tells you "A. door. is. ajar.") at Barbacoa, which is a Carribbean-inspired place in the Greenwood neighborhood. I knew it was close, but until we got there, I didn't know it was right across the street from the Up and Down Club where I dance on Tuesdays.

My friends Jon Singer and Debbie Schwartz were already there, along with two other women, friends of theirs. Jack got on well with them all, of course, and we feasted on lamb in a trinidad-inspired coconut curry sauce, and chicken marinated in tomatoes and chipolte peppers, with key lime pie for dessert. We talked about white-water rafting, the competitive eating of spicy foods, and various cultivars of hot peppers (Jon and Jack share this interest). Jack and I walked across the street to the grocery store for our contributions to the Vanguard provisions (it's BYOE), then drove south to Jane, Luke, and Vonda's place.

We were early to Vanguard -- this almost goes without saying, if I am part of the group -- but we weren't the first to arrive. I spent time upstairs in the non-smoking section, where Jack talked to Glenn Hackney (I used to bowl with him) and Melissa Shaw (she is a former coworker of mine, and a neighbor of Jack's though he didn't know her before). I also enjoyed the time spent downstairs in the smoking section, where Victor Gonzalez and Andy Hooper did some explication of fanzine fandom for Jack's benefit. Jack is a dedicated SF reader and aspiring writer, and a con-going fan, but hasn't been involved in the tradition of fanzine fandom that I've worked my way into.

When we'd had enough of the party, we drove back to Jack's place and Jack played me some of his original compositions on his twelve-string guitar.