the desolate path

The cold snap from the weekend turned into a cold karate chop to the throat this morning. I decided to take a stroll down the waterfront to get my mind tuned into the idea of working on or near the water. My wellies have become accustom to the legs and vice-versa.
I started along Tom McCall Park, where the sunshine could warm my back as I took long strides down the boardwalk - long strides not only because it was cold, but also to get to the docks while there was still work available. I formed a rhythm of 3 steps per second - I know this because one of the timed crosswalks at Naito Parkway showed me the tempo. The boardwalk was all but empty, only a few joggers, four skateboarders, and one lonely guy who was making friends with the sea gulls through bribery with a bag of stale bread. I passed the many monuments that are dedicated to the facets of war and subsequent friendship.
This could have been a peaceful walk if not for the cold. The waterfront is so much more inviting than the urban blocks just to the west. As I reached the Steel Bridge, I became aware that the boardwalk didn't connect past the bridge. It forces a long detour back towards Naito Parkway and then around the intertwining ramps that connect Old Town to the Central East Side. As I made my way around them and back on track, I saw Rusty.
He was looking rather haggard, but still managed a smile as big as Texas when he saw me. I threw my arms around him and asked him what he was up to. His reply informed me that he had a rough night under the bridge because he didn't make it inside the door of the Blanchet House in time.
He was just beginning to feel his feet again and he was in a lot of pain. He needed a drink... and come to think of it, so did I.
We wandered in the direction of the hills, over to the Dirty Duck and saw that Jan was working; and she was always good for a couple of free beers in exchange for sweeping and taking the trash out... I begin to tell Dusty how I’m prone to sea sickness.