My best friend passed away suddenly two days after Christmas. This piece isn’t really about that, but it should probably start there because otherwise, it’s going to come in the middle, and that doesn’t feel right. It would sound like a twist in the plot. His sudden death was the impetus for the whole story, so it feels like I should mention it at the beginning. Starting this way doesn’t feel right either. I wish he were still here. Ok, here goes.
I have been a Pete Droge fan since sometime in 1994. I was living in Boston and probably listening to WFNX or WXPN when I first heard ‘If you Don’t Love Me (I’ll Kill Myself),’ the first single from Droge’s debut album ‘Necktie Second.’ I honestly don’t remember if it was love at first listen, but I would certainly turn it up when I heard it. The lyrics wouldn’t fly today, but they’re catchy and memorable as heck. You could call it a tongue-in-cheek love song, and that’s certainly how I hear it. Regardless of its place in our current culture, back then, it was a fun song, and I liked it. I was also broke pretty much constantly and often had to decide between comics and food (generally picking comics), so there was only money enough for really sure thing albums, and I only knew the one song from Droge, so I wouldn’t own Necktie Second until many years later.
Eventually, the song stopped getting airplay, and I didn’t think much about it. Back in the days before spotify, that’s how it was.
Fast forward to 1996, when on a trip to the Village in New York City, I picked up a copy of ‘VH1 Crossroads,’ a CD compilation featuring acoustic performances of popular songs from the show of the same name. It’s hard to overstate the impact this album has had on me and my musical tastes since I first listened to it. I will probably write something larger about it specifically someday, but for now, I’ll just say that of the five or so songs I can still remember how to play on guitar, four of them are on this CD (The other one is Bankrobber by the Clash.)
The 11th track on VH1 Crossroads happens to be ‘If You Don’t Love Me (I’ll Kill Myself)’ by Pete Droge and the Sinners. Hearing it on this album was like running into a friend you haven’t seen in years. Heck, as I write this, I’m listening to that version of the song, and it STILL feels like a hug from a long-lost pal. Despite all this, I still didn’t seek out any of Droge’s albums. That would still be a while yet. Honestly, I’m not even sure why I didn’t then.
Fast forward another year or two; I’m not exactly sure of the timeline. It’s a Sunday afternoon and I am sitting in the house of a young co-worker, Will, with my friend Steve. Steve is the friend I mentioned above. I met him at the comic shop, the same place I managed Will. I don’t remember exactly why we were watching a movie at Will’s house. I would guess because his parents were away, and we were keeping an eye on him, or something along those lines.
The movie we are watching is ‘Beautiful Girls.’ It’s a movie I still absolutely love, even though it’s another problematic piece of art that wouldn’t have been made today, and honestly probably shouldn’t have been made then, at least some of the plotlines. Despite all that, I still love it, and feel it very deeply in my soul when Matt Dillon talks about ‘being so far from the man he thought he’d be.’
The other thing from it I feel very deeply in my soul is the song that opens the film and mostly shares a title with it, ‘Beautiful Girl’ by Pete Droge and the Sinners. I can say for sure I instantly fell in love with the song when I first heard the melancholy guitar notes play over scenes of Timothy Hutton wrapping up his day and getting on a bus to his hometown.
To my mind, this is the most perfect song ever created. It is beautiful from the first note to the last, and if I ever really had to explain what it feels like inside me, I would just play this song for whomever was asking. The melancholy hopefulness, the truth behind the lyrics, the KNOWING that you’re in the right place, and the combination of contentment and restlessness that comes with that. It’s a song that feels like both setting forth and settling down. Maybe it’s just me, but I hear a whole life in its verses, one where some things work out and some don’t, but you keep going and knowing deep down that that’s what life is about.
For all the wonderful music out there, this is the one. This is the song I would call my all-time favorite. One that will always be tied to memories of watching that movie with Steve.
I watched that movie with my friends that day and then went out and bought the soundtrack the next day. I still love it.
It would be a few years later after I met the woman who would be my wife and got a job at Borders Books and Music, where I would meet a lot of the people who would go on to be some of the most important people in my life, that I really discovered the rest of Pete Droge’s music.
I started with Necktie Second, then Find a Door, and finally Spacey and Shaking. Skywatching came out while I was working at the store. The production was so different that it took a little while to get used to it compared to the others, but I loved it all the same. It turns out Mr. Droge had more than just two songs that I deeply loved. It just took me a while to find them. The Thorns happened to come out while I was still employed by Borders, and while I enjoy it, it’s not quite the same as his ‘solo’ stuff for me. It’s very good but less to my taste. There’s nothing on it that compares to ‘Straylin Street’ or ‘Eyes on the Ceiling.’ I sometimes think I am just biased against three-part harmonies. I don’t really like Crosby, Stills, and Nash either.
It’s worth noting that Pete Droge also appears in a top 5-ish all-time film for me, ‘Almost Famous.’ He is playing ‘Small Time Blues’ in a hotel room as William Miller walks by and observes him and Elaine Summers. It’s a small scene, but important. It makes me smile every time I watch the movie. In part because I thought it would be about as close as I ever got to see Droge perform live.
Droge essentially stopped touring after the Thorns. I know he played shows here and there, but not many. He suffered a years-long battle with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome that contributed to it as well. I’m sure there were plenty of other reasons, but the long and short was that the chances of catching a Pete Droge show here in the greater Philadelphia area were pretty slim.
Fast forward to 2016, and Droge announces a small show on Vashon Island. I genuinely considered going, but it seemed insane to fly to a city I’d never been to to see an artist play a couple of songs. I put it out of my mind as a silly notion.
Which brings us to Steve passing away. As I mentioned, it was a couple of days after he spent Christmas with me and my family. I don’t want to get too much into it because it’s a big thing and hard, but suffice it to say, since that moment, my worldview and thoughts on life have shifted some.
So, when Pete Droge announced on his substack a couple of days before Steve’s memorial service that he was playing a show on Vashon Island at the end of March, on a whim, I bought a ticket.
I don’t know that I was even planning to go when I bought it, but my thinking was ‘it might be now or never,’ because you never really know.
I spent the next month or so talking to a friend about coming with me to Seattle. Like me, he had never been. Eventually, he decided he couldn’t do it, but by then, I knew that I was going to make the trip, and so one night, I pulled the trigger on flights and, after some (poorly done) research, booked a hotel next to what I thought was the ferry to Vashon Island (it wasn’t.)
I know deep down that if Steve hadn’t passed away, I would not have taken the trip, but a loss like that really opens your eyes to the notion that we only have one life to live, and what’s the point if we’re not filling it with love, laughter, and the things we love. The guy who wrote my all-time favorite piece of music was going to perform, and I was going to be there this time.
What I didn’t realize was quite how much of an adventure that was going to be.
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I arrived in Seattle late on a Friday night and took an Uber to where I was staying, the CitizenM hotel in Pioneers Square. I picked that hotel for two reasons. The first was I thought it was close to the ferry to Vashon Island. It isn’t. It’s right across the street from the water taxis that run to the island, but only during the week. This is sort of the first lesson here about doing your research before you go galivanting about to strange cities. The second reason was because it made me think of ‘Citizen Dick,’ Matt Dillon’s band in the movie ‘Singles’ because I am a huge nerd. On the trip over, I listened to Temple of the Dog, Pearl Jam, and Nirvana as we approached the city.
Seattle became a kind of cultural mecca for people like me in the early 90s, thanks to the grunge movement and movies like Singles. This trip was not only to see one of my favorite artists perform but also to fulfill a lifelong dream of visiting the city that birthed all those great bands that played such a formative role for me.
It also meant I got to see one of my oldest friends, Leon, who has lived in Seattle for a while. Because I had managed to bungle my hotel location versus the ferry location, he was going to drop me off at the West Seattle ferry after we had lunch the next day.
I should mention here I had very little plan as to how I was going to navigate Vashon Island. I knew there was a bus that ran the length of the island, and all I needed was to get from the dock to the central town and back. My fallback was to take Ubers. I had read that they weren’t plentiful on the island, but I figured I didn’t mind waiting. Make a note of this point because we’re going to come back to it later.
The next day, after a wonderful lunch at a place on the Seattle waterfront called ‘Elliot’s Oyster House,’ which I’d add is the first place I’ve ever actually enjoyed oysters, he drove me to the ferry in West Seattle. I walked down, bought my ticket, and, after a little wait, was on my way.
The weather that day was stunning. It was warm, but not too warm. The sky was clear, and the air was crisp. The spirit of adventure I felt on the ferry ride over was almost overwhelming, and that was before I turned my head to the South and saw Mt. Rainer in its full glory. I’ve seen a lot of mountains, but I’m not sure if one has been as breathtaking and disorienting as Mt. Rainer was that day. Seeing a mountain from sea level really gives you a full impression of the raw size. I was mesmerized.
Finally, the all-too-short ride to the island was ending. I headed down to the front waiting area. As we made our final approach I asked an older gentleman standing next to me if he happened to know where the bus picked people up.
I want to pause here a second and remind my readers that I am a rather large human, a hair under six feet and way too many hairs over 250 pounds. I am dressed in a black hoodie, an army green beanie, and dark sunglasses. Ok, moving on.
The gentleman says that the bus comes right down to the docks. I begin to thank him before he goes on to ask, “First time on the island?”
I replied that it was and mentioned it was my first time in Seattle, too. He asked if it was business or vacation, and I mentioned I was in town for a concert. It felt like pleasant little small talk, which was nice. I’m not someone who regularly engages people I don’t know. I’m not unfriendly. I just generally leave people alone.
Anyway, this is when I started to almost feel like I’d crossed over into Oz. The very nice man offered to give me a ride into town.
Now, 99 out of 100 times, this is not something I would have considered. Although I was sure I could take the man if I needed to, I’ve seen a lot of movies and know that physical advantages don’t always mean what we hope. I have never hitchhiked in my life, never even tried.
And yet, here I was. On a pilgrimage to see a rare concert in a place I’ve always wanted to visit. I was on an adventure and thought to myself, ‘fuck it,’ and accepted the ride.
Once we docked, he and I walked down the dock and up a fairly steep hill to a rather large truck. We got in, and off we went. My lizard brain was still feeling paranoid, so I didn’t buckle the seatbelt until he asked me to, that is.
Well, the ride turned out to be perfectly pleasant. He was a lifelong resident of the island and a former pilot. He told me some of the island’s history and culture and a bit about the town. He recommended a couple of different places to eat, and let me know where the Vashon Center For the Arts, the venue, was located. It was a little over a mile out of town. He dropped me off in the middle of the small town in the center of the island and wished me good luck.
Like I said, I felt like I was in Oz.
I have rarely felt as happy, excited and fulfilled as I did exploring that little town. I love traveling and finding new things and seeing new places, and here, I had hours to poke around and just feel free.
Vashon is a really neat place. The town is a small boutique-type town but felt very comfortable and familiar. There’s a radio station right on the main street that reminded me of Grosse Pointe Blank, which is a pretty great movie to be reminded of. The only regret I have is the record shop (which it turns out is owned by the lead singer of the Fray) was closed. I bought a few souvenirs and a book of memories written by islanders and set about finding a place to eat dinner.
I couldn’t decide so I eventually asked a young man working in a clothing shop what restaurant was the local favorite, the most ‘Vashon Island’. He walked me outside and told me a little about the places we could see before pointing to a small hamburger shop, very much resembling a Dairy Queen, called ‘The Island Queen.’ I probably should have guessed the teenager would pick the hamburger joint, but I was open to it and wandered over.
Well, he wasn’t wrong. I had a terrific burger and fries before heading over to a cool looking ice cream parlor filled with vintage pinball machines and had a small bowl of Honey Lavender ice cream. Sounds weird, tasted incredible.
After that, I thought about ubering the mile out to the venue but decided to just walk it. I had plenty of time, and it was still a nice day out. I did happen to glance at the Uber app to see if rides were available and made a pretty big mistake. It looked to me like there were plenty, but what I was looking at was the screen that lets you pick the KIND of Uber you want, not that they were around. Satisfied, I head out to the Center for the Arts.
The walk was nice, just along the main road that runs the length of the island. It’s almost completely lined with trees, and not many houses or businesses. I remember thinking the island must be pretty dark at night. After not too long, I arrived early for the show. I hung around looking at the exhibits on the ground until finally, the doors opened, and people were let in.
The Vashon Center of the Arts is not a big place. The theater seats 315; the refreshments are from a folding table and volunteers. Listening to the crowd chat while waiting, I gathered that a good chunk of the people there were islanders, and it seemed like almost everyone knew each other. I felt a little out of place but also generally welcomed. I will say I definitely looked a bit more disheveled than most of the attendees.
After a fairly short wait, we were asked to make our way to our seats, and then the magic truly began.
#
The stage contained two chairs, a small table, and a lit-up blue backdrop behind a trellis of hanging branches. It was simple but also very nice. It felt a bit like the island itself. Quiet, unassuming, but also welcoming and memorable.
The show began with Pete Droge and Elaine Summers walking out to the stage to loud applause. The first thing that jumped out at me was that Pete Droge is rather tall. I had no idea. He was dressed in jeans and a flannel, with a signature hat. Elaine Summers was not as tall but had a presence that made up for it. I genuinely could not believe I was there and seeing what I was seeing. Droge did some intros and made a few jokes before launching into ‘Brakeman,’ a song originally written for Ramadillo, his first band, and eventually on the album ‘Find a Door.’ It was a sublime acoustic performance, which I’ll go ahead and say every number they performed that night was.
They followed ‘Brakeman’ up with a song called ‘Island,’ which is a song about Vashon itself. It’s from volume two of ‘The Droge and Summers Blend,’ latter day albums put out in the last couple of years. Having gotten a taste of Vashon, I will say I enjoyed this song even more than when I first listened to it on the album.
The next song was apparently nearly cut from the setlist. It was the biggest hit, ‘If You Don’t Love Me (I’ll Kill Myself).’ I can understand not wanting to play it nowadays, but I’m glad he did. Problematic notions aside, I still love the song and was happy to hear it live.
I should mention that I had a little bit of an idea on what might be played because of Pete Droge’s Substack’ Love Songs Etc’ to which I subscribe. He had asked in a post what songs people would be brokenhearted not to hear. While I was happy to hear anything, I had mentioned that Beautiful Girl was my all time favorite song, and he had seemed open to playing it. He’s very responsive to folks on the substack, and I’d had a few interactions with him that were very nice. I’d told him I was traveling from Delaware, and presumably, a few other folks had mentioned they were coming from even farther. He mentioned during the show how much he enjoyed the newsletter and shouted out folks coming from far away. It was a neat bit of community and a good way to remind yourself that artists are just people, too. I highly recommend subscribing to it. You can find it here. Even if you’re not familiar with his music (shame on you), his memories of the road, making albums, and Seattle in the grunge glory days are cool to read.
After ‘If You Don’t Love Me,’ he played two of my absolute favorites, ‘Small Time Blues’ and ‘Northern Bound Train.’ The former I expected, the latter less so, and was genuinely thrilled with hearing it. I once wrote a poem inspired by it, which, considering I’ve written about 15 poems in my life, tells you how much I enjoy it. ‘Small Time Blues’ is one my wife loves as well. We played it during our wedding reception, which should serve as a reminder that you shouldn’t let a music nerd with no rhythm pick the songs to play in a dancing situation.
From there, they performed ‘My Mind’s Eye,’ which I honestly can’t remember if it was a new song or a Small Faces Cover. I didn’t write it down at the time and kind of regret it. In my defense, it was followed by ‘Skeleton Crew.’ This is a newer song that was released in March 2020. He commented on the poor timing of releasing a record in that particular month and then played an absolutely stunning version. I had been excited because this was one he had posted about a few times and kind of led readers through the building of it. You can watch the performance here, which I highly recommend. It’s such a gentle, kind, and emotive song.
I was a bit surprised when he followed that up with ‘Runaway Feeling,’ which was a Thorns song. I can admit I appreciated it a bit more hearing it here than the album version. So much so that I’ve gone back and revisited the original and have fallen a bit in love with it. I guess things can change.
Next up was ‘Going Whichever Way The Wind Blows,’ which was my favorite song from his album ‘Under the Waves.’ This was a 2006 album from Droge’s own label, ‘Puzzle Tree Music.’ It’s a quiet kind of album, soulful and meditative. Around that time, he had a cool website that talked about Puzzle Tree and had a neat nature theme. I don’t think it’s around anymore, but I always liked it.
They wrapped up the first half with ‘Big Time Dream,’ a song remembering careers in music from the most recent album, ‘The Droge and Summers Blend Volume Three.’ This song popped up in my head a few times during the last stages of work on the most recent anthology I edited, ‘Beneath the Yellow Lights.’ It’s a song about keeping going and doing what you love. It’s meant a lot to me the last few months.
I haven’t been to many shows with intermissions, and I have to say it was pretty nice. I was somewhat overwhelmed with gratitude at being there, even if it still felt surreal.
The second half began with a song called ‘Memory Off My Mind’ which I also didn’t write enough notes about. I certainly enjoyed it, but I don’t recall where it came from.
They followed that up with ‘Wolfgang’ from ‘Find a Door.’ It’s the second song off that album, after ‘Mr. Jade’ which is a tough act to follow, but it is close to its equal. Hearing Droge and Summers sing it was spectacular. It’s the shortest song on the album, but the acoustic version felt like it had a little more room to breathe. It also happens to have one of Droge’s most sing-a-long choruses with the “Oooh oh, It’s alright, I’m happy just to be your man.”
That was followed up with another absolute favorite, “Fourth of July,” from “Necktie Second.” This was the only song I took a little video of. I was trying to be as ‘in the moment’ as possible, but I wanted to have a little bit to remember the show by. This is such a beautiful, sad song, and it almost always gets to me. Live, acoustic, with harmonies from Elaine Summers, it was almost too much. I’m not a crier in general, but I could feel the edges of it creeping in here. For me, there’s nothing like live music to get those emotions rolling.
I developed the habit of keeping setlists on my phone at concerts a while ago. I can never tell if it’s too nerdy, and I try to not be disruptive with it, which is a bit harder in a seated theater and dimmed lights, but I knew I’d want to remember the songs, and you never know if someone else will keep a list and pop it onto setlist.fm. It’s easier when it’s someone whose songs you know by heart because you only need a couple of seconds to recognize it, write it down, and then engage with the song. Anyway, all that is to say, I laughed when I looked back at my list because I wrote down the next song in all capital letters, “BEAUTIFUL GIRL.”
I remember thinking very briefly of recording the song, but instead put my phone away and just lived in the moment. This is a song that has been my favorite for 28 or so years, that I flew 2800 miles on the chance of hearing it performed by the person who wrote it. It would have been silly to let fumbling with a phone or whatever else get in the way of that.
And it was perfect.
Droge followed it up by performing his new song, ‘Lonely Mana.’ This is a new song he wrote about his birth mother. Prior to the song, he tells a story about looking into his adoption and finding his mother’s name and an obituary. It’s a heartbreaking story but a special song. It’s worth following the link up there to hear his performance. It’s a folk song that feels incredibly lived-in and personal. The performance that night felt a bit magical. I imagine if there is an afterlife and people can check in, she might have been there that night to hear it.
With the next song, Elaine Summers rejoined Droge on stage, and they sang a song called ‘You Called Me Kid’ about his adoptive parents. You can listen to that one on YouTube, too. It’s a neat song and almost as emotional as ‘Lonely Mana.’ Family is a hell of a thing.
Next up was the title track from his album ‘Under the Waves.’ This is a sparse song on the album with a fascinating soundscape that feels like being on the ocean when I listen to it. Here, in the acoustic version, it was easy to appreciate the song itself.
‘Why Should I Care’ was the next song, which I also made no notes on. After that was ‘Sunspot Stopwatch’ from ‘Necktie Second,’ which I have always loved the cadence of. They finished the second half with ‘Blindly’ from ‘Spacey and Shakin’, which I have always liked but never loved. Listening to it here, I adored it.
I did not want the show to end but was pleasantly surprised by an encore. I wasn’t really expecting one, given the nature of the performance.
The encore began with ‘Two of the Lucky Ones,’ which happens to be on the Zombieland soundtrack and is the most-streamed song in his catalog. It’s a lovely song, and its presence in a zombie comedy has always fascinated me. There is a post on the substack you can read if you subscribe that tells how it got there. It’s a cool story. This was a cool performance.
The final song of the evening was the emotional heavy-hitter ‘Straylin Street.’ This is also up on YouTube, and I implore you to go give it a listen, because all the emotion and joy of the whole evening felt packed into his performance of it. Looking back on the rest of my evening, it was probably the perfect song for the show to end with.
I really could not have asked for anything more from a performance I’ve been dreaming about for so long. It was a wonderful, perfect evening.
After the show, Droge was going to come out and sign things and meet the folks there. While I was waiting, the people who had sat next to me came over and introduced themselves. They had noticed me keeping a setlist and asked me to email them a copy. They had a hand in a lot of the musical goings-on on the island, including an organization that lent people instruments, which I still think is a cool idea. They pointed out some of the folks who had attended, including a few names I knew from other bands. I had no idea I had been in such exclusive company, but that seems to be the nature of the place.
Eventually, Droge came out, and I got a chance to chat with him for a few moments. He was as nice and genuine as any musician I have ever met, and it was a true pleasure. We chatted about the substack a bit. I didn’t want to hold him up and had a ferry to catch, so I said good night and headed outside to call an Uber to the docks.
This is when the night turned from a memorable evening out to a whole other thing.
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I mentioned earlier that I had been looking at the screen that allowed you to select the type of Uber you wanted. I brought the app up and clicked on the most basic kind.
I then waited ten minutes for it to tell me none were around.
Uh oh.
I tried the next level up. After another few minutes, nothing.
Even more uh oh.
I should point out that it’s around 10 pm at this point. The next ferry is at 10:30, then 11:30, and then 1:05 ferries, and after that, not again until 5 am or so. The Vashon Center for the Arts is a little over six miles from the dock. Time is not on my side.
I tried once more for an Uber before giving up and deciding I would walk back to town. My logic was that there were a few bars, and they probably would be able to call a cab, even though I couldn’t find a cab company on the island searching on my phone.
Another little detail is that I watch a lot of horror movies. I co-host a horror movie podcast and spend a lot of time-consuming horror as a genre. I am well aware that the decision I am making to walk back to town through the wooded streets at night is a classic setup. We’ll call it setup #1. I am also aware that about halfway back there is a statue I saw on the way in of a man with an actual chainsaw dangling from it.
The first thing a friend told me when I told him this story later was, ‘Boy, you sure don’t make good choices.’
So, I set about double-timing it back to town. Double-time at this point isn’t very fast. As I mentioned, my level of fitness at the time wasn’t great, and I was already tired from walking around all day.
I passed the chainsaw man statue without incident. What doesn’t pass me is very many cars. I’m not sure where most of the folks at the show went, but it sure didn’t seem like they headed back toward town.
After a thankfully uneventful walk back, I get to town.
And everything is closed. Restaurants, bars, the radio station, everything.
I won’t say I panicked, but some level of concern was starting to set in. I walked down the main street looking for anything that might be open and found nothing. On a second pass, I notice that inside one of the bars, named The Ruby Brink, are three people cleaning up. The door is unlocked so I popped my head in and asked them if they knew of a cab I could call to the docks. They laughed at me in a friendly way before letting me know that there was none of that on Vashon. After chatting for a moment, they firmly believed my best option was to stand on the corner in town and hitchhike. Both women said that they had hitchhiked on the island. That feeling like I was in Oz hit me again.
I want to remind you that I am a rather large man dressed in a black hoodie and a dark green beanie. I am, at least, relatively closely shaved at this point and don’t look like the hobo in ‘Straylin Street’ like I usually do, so I had that going for me.
By this point, walking to the dock in time to make a ferry is not really an option and there are no hotels on the island that are open. I would have to actually try hitchhiking or possibly walk to the dock and sleep on the benches in the ferry terminal if it’s open at that point.
Assessing the viability of my options, I head out to the corner by a traffic light and try to get the attention of people driving through. There are not many, and somehow almost every one is a woman driving by herself. I didn’t even attempt it with them because the last thing I wanted to do was scare anyone. One guy rolled down his window to ask if I was alright but pulled away before I even could ask for a ride. I don’t have any hitchhiking skills, having only ever done it once in my life, mostly by accident, that same morning.
After about 20 minutes, the man who had been cleaning up the bar came over to me with a sign he made. It said, “Ride to Boat.”
And so I stood on the corner of an empty street, on a quiet island, late at night, hoping for a kind soul to pick me up and drive me to the dock. This was not a situation I expected to be in, and it would appear to be a lesson in better researching your destination’s travel capabilities if you happen to be on foot.
Several cars looked at me and my sign, but no one even rolled down their window until, after about 30 minutes, a car rolled up the side street, headed in a different direction. A man rolled down his window and called over to me, “You’re trying to get to the docks?” I answered that I was, and he followed up with “Now?” in a somewhat incredulous tone, very similar to the one I would have had if the roles were reversed.
“Yup,” I answered.
There was a brief pause followed by, “Alright then, hop on in.”
If you’re keeping score, this is horror movie setup #2.
Turns out, the man who extremely kindly gave me a ride to the docks was named Dexter, and he owned the local weed store, Euphoria. He also plays in a heavy metal band called Gloomgazer and is from the island. He told me about the music on the island and the community and had a bit of a different perspective from the man who drove me that morning. I will stop short of calling Dexter a saint, but to me, on that dark, weird night, that’s what he was. I had missed the 11:30 ferry by this point, and Dexter offered to wait with me if I wanted to make sure the 1 am was coming because, apparently, sometimes it doesn’t. I said no, thanked him as heartily as I could, and hopped out of his car.
I watched as he drove off before entering the completely empty ferry office.
The lights were on but not a soul was visible. It was at this point I called my wife to check in. It was pretty late in Delaware, but I figured she’d want to hear from me regardless. I let her know about how I got there and that I still had some miles to go before I slept, but at worst, I had a place to hang around for a couple of hours if necessary.
Not long after that, from where I still don’t know, a small in stature woman appeared dressed in a uniform. She was the late-night person who ran the terminal. I asked her if the late ferry would be coming, and she said it would. I breathed a deep sigh of relief. She offered me a donut. I declined, but it was another example of just about everyone on this island being genuinely friendly. I was right about that moment when the screaming started.
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As I stood there chatting with the woman, we began to hear an awful screaming sound from outside. We both looked at each other in obvious concern. We were standing near an open door, so she walked over and popped her head out. The screaming continued, and she waved me over.
Once again, I watch a LOT of horror movies, so I can’t say I was wildly excited about this. This would be horror setup #3.
We both step outside to investigate. It sounds like it’s coming from further down the dock or possibly the water. She very much doesn’t want to investigate alone, which I understand. Although I have to acknowledge that it feels a little weird to be asked to follow in search of screaming by someone who seems incredibly nonplussed about a large stranger appearing in the night immediately before screaming begins. I can only imagine how she felt, but I will say she seemed concerned but not at all frightening.
The screaming sounds animal in nature. At the time, I thought it might be a large cat of some sort, which, as I read in researching some of this piece, is possible, as Vashon is a habitat of coyotes and occasionally cougars and bears. As a side note, I did not know that as I walked through the wooded streets at night.
We head further down the dock to see what we can find. It’s nighttime on the water, so the sound is a bit hard to geolocate. I pause before entering the restricted areas, but she waves me on. The sound is still intense, but we can’t figure out where it’s coming from.
Eventually she points me to look in another spot while she keeps looking down the dock. I know, I know, splitting up is the dumbest thing you can do, but I already mentioned I wasn’t making great decisions.
I head over to another area that’s gated off and head through it down the other side of the dock, and that’s when I see it. Something is thrashing about in the water and screaming. I call her over because I have no flashlight to see what it is, but I’m afraid it’s a hurt animal.
Nope.
She comes over and walks down the dock while I wait and she starts laughing and waves me over. I walk down and get a good look at it.
Fun fact, two harbor seals mating involves a LOT of screaming and thrashing around in the water.
After some more laughter, the woman and I head back to the terminal to wait for the ferry. I sit down and relax for the first time since I left the theater.
Finally, the ferry arrives and I board. This one is a little bit minor, but the ferry, other than the workers, is completely empty. This would be horror movie setup #4, but I was tired enough that if that ferry was haunted, then so be it.
It makes an extra stop as it goes the long way around back to West Seattle, and honestly, it was a cool ride. I like ferries.
Once back on the mainland, I’m able to get an Uber back to my hotel without any problem, ending my long, dark, weird night.
#
I think the moral of the story is that you should do the things you feel drawn to do. Don’t wait. Don’t put it off. Live your life when you can because you never really know what’s coming down the pike. Maybe do a little research on the place you’re going, especially if it’s an island.
The rest of the trip was wonderful, if somewhat less eventful unless you count having an absolutely delicious croque monsieur in a little cafe in the Pike Place Market as eventful. Next to seeing one of your all-time favorite artists play your all-time favorite song live and following that up with learning you would absolutely NOT survive a horror movie, it would have to be a pretty stellar sandwich. And you know what? It was.
As Warren Zevon said, “Enjoy every sandwich.”
SHOUTING STREET 
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