Robert Frost is an Idiot
Here’s a fun tip: 11th Avenue and 11th Avenue East are not the same. Specifically, one is east. One is not.
After arriving in Seattle and hopping in a cab, you’ll be dumped in front of what you assume is your Airbnb apartment for the night. It’s nearly midnight and the neighborhood—while seemingly lovely—is nearly deserted.
For the next half hour, your raggle taggle trio will attempt to follow the intricate instructions the host provided, which include things such as, ‘Take private staircase in back to 3rd floor. Find glass heart under flower pot and retrieve key. Come back down steps. Feed troll a Girl Scout cookie. Army crawl into apartment.”
But it’s only after your male travel companion—a gentleman with the hair of Marv from ‘Home Alone’—has gone up three flights of wooden steps, pawed his way around a balcony full of plants and directed an industrial flashlight into an apartment full of unsuspecting strangers that you’ll realize maybe something’s not right.
One hour later, you’ll successfully reach your correct destination by blistered foot. As Robbie Frost always says, ‘Two roads diverged at 11th Avenue. I took the wrong one.”