Sunday morning, we took the monorail down to the market.

colleen and steve

We had brunch at the Athenian Inn, an old restaurant inside the market, and then wandered around until it was time to go back to Seattle Center. We hopped on a bus and rode up to see the Kings of Leon, one of my favorite bands. I saw them many moons ago at Bonnaroo, and at the Fine Line in Minneapolis.

Then we all crowded into a smallish building (I didn’t know they had indoor shows there!) to see Bouncing Souls. My favorite part, of course, was when they did ‘Argyle’, the song P.O.S. covers in ‘De La Souls’.

We then herded into the mainstage area to see Sean Paul, followed by Fergie. First of all, I did not realize I knew at least half of Sean Paul’s songs. I’ve danced to all of them many times, in bars and barefoot on streets throughout the land. His set was pretty awesome, if populated mainly by 15-year-old girls. Seriously, I went to the bathroom and realized I was twice as old as every girl in there, and half of them were drunk on smuggled beer. They’d be passing out by 11pm for sure.

And then, there was Fergie.

Thing is, I don’t really like Fergie. I’ve obviously danced to ‘London Bridge’ and ‘Fergalicious’ a minimum of 50 times apiece, because that’s just dance music. But when I heard she’d be playing there, of course I had to see her. How could I miss that opportunity? It’s not like I’m going to pay for tickets to her shows.

The first part was as expected: all her radio songs, and three costume changes (in a one-hour set). She was apparently doing hand-springs and such, but we were too far away to really be able to see much. Towards the end, she yelled, Do you want to rock?? Of course we wanted to rock, at least until we found out what she meant.

She launched into ‘Barracuda’ by Heart. It was definitely out-of-place, but not totally wrong for her; she had the voice for it, at least. I was amused knowing that probably 90% of the people there had never heard the song before, since they weren’t even born then. At the end of the song, she shouted, You know where you are? You’re in the jungle, baby! You gonna DIIIIIIEEEE!

Our minds were blown. We barely even absorbed the fact that she also covered ‘Rehab’ by Amy Winehouse. We felt like we were broken, and stumbled out after the show, stunned.

We walked toward Belltown and decided to go to Cyclops, Colleen’s dad’s favorite bar. It had an awesome interior, even more awesome bartenders (I loved the girl who called us lovebirds because she kept seeing us making out), and a strangely mixed crowd.

We spend a good portion of our time there watching a couple dudes putting the hardcore mack down on two willing girls. They swooped in with a bucket of Rainier, most of which was consumed by the little guy, who we named ‘Limpy’, due to the fact that his friend was obviously going to get all the play when he was unable to perform. We could only see the other dude from the back, but he was clearly a giant, so Steve named him Frankenstein. I loved their antics, especially when Limpy would start to doze off clutching his beer bottle, then spring awake to make another sly move on the ladies.

We left as the bar was closing, and unfortunately did not get to see the outcome of their efforts. However, we’re pretty sure the score was Frankenstein 2, Limpy 0.