Stepping off the boat, up the gently sloping metal-grated dock-access bridge, I had to turn around several times to worry about my galley, my crew, my ship. Very quickly after the hesitant pause I turned back smiling to face my two week vacation. My wife's hand in mine, we walked towards the Alaskan Hotel.
Downtown Juneau is great and small - everything is a few blocks away. Littered throughout the numerous gift shops and bustling sidewalks of cruise-goers, there are plenty of bars, enough restaurants, and various other diversions to keep Carey and I entertained for several days.
Just before we walked into the oldest Hotel in Alaska (established Sept. 13th, 1913) I spotted a familiar face across the street. Drew, a friend from the UAA Debate Squad was walking along brightly and we hugged in surprise greeting. The chance meeting was brought about by Drew's employment at the Alaska Democratic Party office in Anchorage. They flew him to Juneau the day before to film Alaska's Senator Ted Stevens. Always a good idea to film guys like Ted Stevens. We parted quickly as he bobbed down the street to meet some friends over coffee.
At the Alaskan Hotel desk, we had a nice long chat with Chuck. Chuck is a writer and former Psychologist who pays the bills by working the hotel desk. He served up some interesting tidbits about the Alaskan Hotel. As late as 1957, legal prostitution was the hotel's main attraction. Chuck claimed that there's been live music in the bar on the ground floor every night for something like seventy years. Prostitution still went on after its prohibition here until 1974 or 1975. Chuck was chuckling as he shared the reason for the continued outlawed trade; a political battle between the conservative Mayor and the un-scrupulous Chief of Police kept Juneau's other goldmines running for many years. John Wayne reportedly visited the hotel (pre-1974) and graced the stairs with his own stumbling-down-them.
Carey and I booked a room with two beds that Chuck said, "most people would push together." We were one of the lucky patrons with a private bathroom in our very own room. Since we were located towards the back of the hotel, the live band amid bar sounds were dull and distant. The open window made more noise than the bar; rain splattered on wood and concrete outside with big drops channeling down the many broad green leaves of summer, making an occasional puncuated 'slap' sound against the drizzle. Sleep came slowly with the worry of my galley, my crew, my ship, and my next menu, beginning two weeks from that day.
I rested better than any night in recent sleepy memory, and soon realized I had slept past my usual breakfast cereal by two hours.
Good morning Chuck.
"Oh, hey, the sane people, Carey and Phil, right? You wouldn't believe how many crazies we get in this hotel."
"How ya' doin'?"
"Good, you know..."
"We like our room."
"Oh good."
"We're headed to breakfast."
"Okay, you want my suggestion? Go to Costa's."
"Where's that?"
"You know the 'Y' junction of streets at the end of the block..."
"Yeah."
"...to the left is Front Street..."
"Okay."
"...take a left at the next block...blue building at the seaplane dock..."
"Yeah, okay, I think I know."
"...yeah, it's right there - great place. Local place."
And let me tell you about a wonderment and truly good breakfast. Get a mug off the the wall, get your coffee - ground fresh and brewed in aluminum bottomed diner standard coffee pots. Write down your order on a notepad and place on the counter - in order - left to right - no order hopping allowed. Inside Costa's - menu includes a kick ball game announcement, biscuits and gravy, corned beef hash, breakfast mashers, banana walnut pancakes, tomato soup and grilled cheese, piled high reuben sandwich, and more. If you forget to specify what kind of toast, you don't get toast on your plate. If that happens you can ask for it, and tip a bit more if you feel bad. Add up your own total, and deposit your cash in the copper bucket. If you need change, just take your change out of the copper bucket. Fan-friggin'-tastic.
Food wass good with a little love from the condiment bar and S&P shakers. Good coffee - one time fee of $1.00. One large eight-ish capacity table, funky decor (to say the least), 4 person bar seating on stools, and a squeezed-in feeling two-top in the restaurant. There's ice cream and fresh griddled waffle cones we noticed on the way out; also noticed two picnic looking four-tops outside the big blue building's mall-way hallway. Yeah, hey Wal-Mart, rollback that into your imported pipe and smoke it. Nothing beats a small town.
That day we walked, pin-ball moving across willy-nilly, knick-knacky, and sassy-tacky shops in Juneau. Clearance-d and stacked, expensive and handcrafted, carved or furry, ornate to simple, some wretched and wonderful, some perfect and breath taking. One just doesn't seem to mind all the rain. Dinner was Sushi . . . again. Finally Carey has taken a liking to sushi. That means I get to eat it too! We chatted with Choy, the sushi artist. He's been here eight years, married about that long, roughly our age, and like us is thinking of having kids in the next year. His tasty Sea Salad and Squid Salad were amazing - and on-the-house.
Later that night we poked our heads into the bustling Alaskan Hotel Bar. A good twangy bluegrass act was playing, but we didn't stay (too tired for drinkin'). Outside, an inebriated fellow was lecturing a bum-looking guy on how to shape up his life.
Good night Juneau.
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