Arrive in Seattle an hour early. Maybe the sked maker is trying to say "sorry" for making wife/me hang around the Plasterboard Palace (aka Fresno Yosemite) until 1 a.m. the previous day, awaiting son's arrival from Chicago.

So early there are no rooms ready at the Seattle hotel. So, a-wandering I go through the University District, cloudy, humid -- ah, steady droughts of fresh air! Walking, legs burning, what's that? The Travelodge says, "Free Wife"? Oh, yeah, "i" before "e" suddenly makes sense to my blurry eyes.

Hours of exploring University Village shopping center, I score my hotel room. Unpacked, I trundle out for lunch -- I poke "one" on the elevator. Somebody points out that lobby is on the second floor. Go figure. Clearly out of my element, this clear air thing again.

I hunt up a Saveway (cousin to Vons) and load up with Celestial Seasoning tea bags, granola bars (hey, Seattle, remember?) and low-salt V8.  At the deli, I ask Hanna to make me a wheat sandwich with smoked turkey and Swiss.

She pokes around for the wheat. Comes up with a loaf, discolored by the penicillin mold. I suggest she ditch the whole loaf. Ah, the price of, well, maybe humidity. She finds a replacement, carving it up wiht a knife that she ditches into a vat of ice water -- a new disinfectant, known only to the Northwest?

Do I want mayo? I decline. Good choice, she says. If you want to spend 100 calories, there are better ways.

I walk past cigarette smokers outside the QFC supermarket, past all the stores with scented candles, body rubs and just plain decorative sprays clinging (a faux allure) to shop air. I climb back up the hill to my hotel, suddenly thinking how much Seattle is like Fresno.