Riding Rackety Rails: I dragged myself off Amtrak’s Coast Starlight, red-eyed from slumber deprivation, and found myself in a pelting rainstorm, which did not appear to bother Seattleites, who flooded the streets, flowing along in bright slickers and cheering after a soccer match.
Rain does not faze these people. Departing from dry-gulch Santa Barbara, I’d spent 30-some hours rattling up the coast, much of it being tossed around in a Mixmaster called a bunk. At least I had the lower. Upstairs, son Barclay was being tossed around like a rag doll all night.
After a few days in Seattle, I realized that I was in a deep-blue, progressive city that has a high opinion of itself. Rather than wallow in postelection gloom, residents are vowing to continue the battle against climate warming despite any Trump-inspired malefactions. It went all-out for Clinton.