“Table for two?” inquired our hostess as Teri and I met up for a quick bite last evening.
Teri semi-seriously replied, asking if it would be too much trouble for the staff to liquidate a few of its existing customers so that we might obtain one of the highly coveted window seats, all of which were already occupied.
Teri always prefers to enjoy meals at the Hangar near the restaurant’s picture windows, which overlook the Gastineau Channel. The view is especially pleasant this time of year before cruise ships begin to pull in and dominate the scene.
As much as I also preferred a window seat at the time, there were none available without a wait. The only thing on my mind at the time was the mouthwatering buffalo burger that I was about to order. Luckily, we spotted an opening in the bar that would immediately satisfy both our visual and abdominal yearnings.
Once we were seated, we began to chat and catch up on the happenings of each other’s lives over the past few weeks since we last spoke. The table’s orientation was such that we did not face each other unless we purposely made the effort. Rather, our conversation bounced off of the outside window back toward us as we took in a long, slow maritime sunset.
It had been a long, grey day, most of which I had spent either pedaling through downpours or staring at computer screens. Teri had spent her day working and would head back to her office for more upon the completion of our food consumption. The picturesque scene was recharging both of our spirits, preparing us to finish our daily tasks in a good frame of mind.
I stared at the channel’s placid waters, now reflecting hues of pink and orange from the sky’s ever-changing palette. My eyes drifted from spot to spot in the water, wondering what species of garbage was floating beside the docks. One cluster appeared to be some sort of building materials, insulation or visqueen perhaps. On first glance, my vision interpreted the floating debris as some sort of wildlife–a surfacing jellyfish or the periscoping forehead of a harbor seal–but it was just the typical assortment of bottles and plastic bags that so often frequent the channel.
Just when I had convinced myself to be satisfied with the faux fauna floating in the foreground of the serene scene, a true living thing came up for a breath. I could believe my eyes–a humpback whale surfaced not twenty feet from the Cruise West dock adjacent to the restaurant.
I stopped mid-sentence and announced the sight to my dining partner, attempting to bridle my enthusiasm and avoiding the disruption of the entire establishment. I’d heard rumors of humpbacks cruising the channel but I’d never seen it for myself until that moment. Naturally, the mammal didn’t show its blowhole again and I wasn’t about to abandon our meal to chase after it. But I did thank Teri for her persistence in pushing for the window seat.
