We made it back across the bridge with barely enough time for Peters to make it to Darwin Ridley’s funeral at the Mount Baker Baptist Church. Peters dropped me off at a bus stop on Rainier Avenue South. I grabbed a Metro bus jammed with rowdy schoolkids for a snail’s-pace ride downtown. If I were into jogging and physical fitness, I probably could have beaten the bus on foot. Once downtown however, Columbia Center isn’t hard to find. It’s the tallest building west of the Mississippi, to say nothing of being the tallest building in Seattle. The lobby is a maze, however, and it took a while to locate the proper bank of elevators for an ear-popping ride to the seventieth floor. Stepping out of the elevator, the carpet beneath my feet was so new and thick that it caught the soles of my shoes and sent me flying. I came within inches of tumbling into the lap of a startled, brunette receptionist, who managed to scramble out of the way. There’s nothing like making a suave and elegant grand entrance.
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