Oh the Places You'll Go: Seattle

There are few places worth a 90 minute ride to the airport, three and a half hours in a metal tube on the tarmac and six in the air, with only water and trail mix for dinner, and, as much as I love the people who live there, Seattle isn't one of them.

Fortunately for the city, the other 599 people making their way into town for the conference were more than happy to enjoy the mild sunny weather, good coffee and beautiful views from the Royal Argosy (including a submarine rising).

I managed to sneak in a few personal visits between educational sessions on surveillance, the horror that is immigration, post-Katrina injustice, and torture. Met the gang Wednesday night for cocktails and flamenco at Ibiza (where I actually told a fellow patron to zip it after the musicians had asked the audience in the performance area to keep it down for the umpteenth time), followed by wine and sleep (in TK's case) at Barolo. Friday night I had a working dinner at Elliott's Oyster House, where we ate oysters on the half shell, crab cakes, Copper River salmon and individualized apple pies. Sunday brunch I returned to Lola, for grapefruit juice, poached eggs, a (slightly disappointing) Dahlia Bakery croissant and coffee.

This time, I ate dinner before I got on the plane.