With the soaring cost of gas, it could cost at least $130,000 for the Blue Angels to perform in Seattle this summer.
Is the Blue Angels Air Show worth the money?
13 Comments
Kelly said:
The Blue Angels are an exciting show - I've seen it a few times with my son. But if you've ever seen them womping 80 feet over your head like I have, you'll know they're trashing fossil fuel and dumping out smokey global-warming pollution at a truly astounding rate that is a shrieking metaphor for the entire US economy.
When you add to that the fact that they are the symbol of US military pride and all the wastefulness that has gone along with that pride over the years and now in Iraq, they represent an image that, while it has been dear to this country for a long time, that is now way out of date.
It's time for this country to be smart again, be efficient, be cooperative with our fellow humans, and maintain the real strength of character that uses force only as a very last resort, not the foolish weakness and bluster of Mr. Bush.
So, it would be fitting that we give the Blue Angels a rest, though we are all proud of the great skill and strength that they represented in a time when oil was dirt cheap and there were wars that really had to be fought.
The new challenges are as big or bigger, but require something very different.
wally said:
of course its worth the money its a time honored
tradition for them to fly at events like this.
people need to quit whining.
Dale said:
Sure ,they are and always have been worth the money. Maybe they could pay for it this year by not fueling up the black op jets that criss cross our skies every day.I'm pretty sure just stopping those high flying chemical polluters for just one day would be more than enough to pay for some real entertainment
Sam said:
Why would If it's worth the money? not a single dime of the cost comes from the seattle tax payer. The Seafair organization pays for all of this through sponsors. Do your research NWCN before you make a fool of yourself and post something stupid like this.
Harold Olsen said:
The Blue Angels are as much a part of Seafair as are the hydroplane races. The hydroplanes also use a lot of fuel. If we use that as an excuse to cancel the Angels then we may as well also cance the hydroplanes. Then we may as well cancel Seafair altogether. Without them there is no Seafair. The rest of the Seafair activities are insignificant compared to these two.
c. smith said:
Let's just do it the right way and cancel Seafair. Problem solved.
C said:
Broadcasting the same stuff 24 hours a day costs money too .. I wonder what that impact is.
B.smart said:
I agree to Kelly. The Blue angels and Hydroplanes are creating not just "Honored tradition" but also are pollution in air, water,and the noise. Don't forget , we have we are facing a lot of problems such as global warming and energy crisis. Who pay for it is not a issue.
It's time to be smart Seattle. Seafair, Be Green.
B.smart said:
I agree to Kelly. The Blue angels and Hydroplanes are creating not just "Honored tradition" but also are pollution in air, water,and the noise. Don't forget , we have we are facing a lot of problems such as global warming and energy crisis. Who pay for it is not a issue.
It's time to be smart Seattle. Seafair, Be Green.
S.smart said:
I agree to Kelly. The Blue angels and Hydroplanes are creating not just "Honored tradition" but also are pollution in air, water,and the noise. Don't forget , we have we are facing a lot of problems such as global warming and energy crisis. Who pay for it is not a issue.
It's time to be smart Seattle. Seafair, Be Green.
susanpaynter said:
By Susan Paynter SEATTLE POST-INTELLIGENCER COLUMNIST
FARZIN BEYZAVI IS a guest most hosts would invite to a party: good-looking, 21, witty and groomed to the teeth.
But, if your party is Seafair, don't ask. The clerk at Tubs in Seattle's University District has lived here all his life. And he's ignored Seafair just as long.
The only event Beyzavi ever attended was one neighborhood parade in Lake City. His parents dragged him when he was too small to resist.
"I have no idea what (Seafair) is supposed to be about," Beyzavi said yesterday. "A bunch of hydros?"
The only time Seafair doesn't bore the socks off Beyzavi is when it makes him really mad.
It did that last Saturday night when he, his girlfriend and a pal couldn't get near Second Avenue for a restaurant dinner for a departing friend. Torchlight Parade madness blocked the way.
Let's hope Beyzavi wasn't stuck on the already-overloaded I-90 bridge yesterday when Blue Angels practice runs shut down traffic. It'll happen again today.
Just what Seattle needs with its other bridge bashed.
Still, there are some who would gladly sit stalled in the sun during a Blue Angel rehearsal. And one of them is Beyzavi's boss, Seafair fanatic Mike Plonski.
"He's old," Beyzavi joked, explaining his boss' unabashed boosterism for Seafair.
Plonski, the general manager at Tubs, wrapped his arms around Seafair in 1983, the summer he moved here after finishing college, holding tight ever since. "It's tradition. It IS Seattle," Plonski gushed yesterday.
Mostly, he loves the hydro races on Lake Washington.
Where else, Plonski asks, can you spend a whole day sitting on a barge in the sun with the same bunch of friends, watching the boats streak by?
But something's amiss, Plonski admits. Maybe it's generational.
Seven or eight years ago Plonski could barely scrounge a kid to work at Tubs on Seafair race day.
"I had to pay time and a half," he recalled.
Now? No problem. People Farzin's age couldn't care less, he says.
Ask them about parades, Seafair pirates, clowns and dancing clams and they sound like vice presidential nominee Dick Cheney at the GOP convention podium this week saying, "It's time for them to go!"
To a lot of people, Seafair pirates epitomize what is old-timey, anachronistic, even offensive about a celebration whose time has passed.
Beth Wojick would argue that the pirates have been extensively "retrained." They're more civilized, says the president of Seafair.
They no longer grab women out of parade crowds, covering their necks with grease paint kisses and whisker burns.
They no longer scare the squibs out of screaming toddlers.
They don't even pin on pirate badges; they hand them out at arm's length.
Is that progress, I wonder? Or is a politically correct pirate kind of besides the point?
Then, of course, there are the annual Seafair protests.
It didn't start this year with the arrival of the Trident nuclear sub, the USS Alabama, you know.
In fact, I would argue that protests have been the most -- maybe the only -- engrossing thing about Seafair for over a decade.
My favorite year was '91 when Seattle planned, then dumped, a welcome home parade for the local heroes of Operation Desert Storm.
So 1,300 marching troops were tacked on to the Torchlight event, instead.
Thanks, but no tanks, said organizers. Seafair allowed a few empty short-range missile launching tubes into the parade but asked the military to check their other weapons at Seattle's door.
That summer a tiny neighborhood parade over in Tahuyacq on Hood Canal featured a counterdemonstration in the form of a homemade tank festooned with fly swatters.
This year, Seattle City Councilman Richard Conlin introduced a resolution asking the Navy to send sailors but leave the sub at home.
Resolution supporter and Councilman Nick Licata told me yesterday it's time for Seafair to reconsider what, exactly, it's celebrating.
Frankly, matey, I think it's time to reconsider Seafair altogether.
To me, Seafair is a lot like sex. Unless you're directly involved, it looks sort of silly.
Susan Paynter said:
SEATTLE POST-INTELLIGENCER COLUMNIST
FARZIN BEYZAVI IS a guest most hosts would invite to a party: good-looking, 21, witty and groomed to the teeth.
But, if your party is Seafair, don't ask. The clerk at Tubs in Seattle's University District has lived here all his life. And he's ignored Seafair just as long.
The only event Beyzavi ever attended was one neighborhood parade in Lake City. His parents dragged him when he was too small to resist.
"I have no idea what (Seafair) is supposed to be about," Beyzavi said yesterday. "A bunch of hydros?"
The only time Seafair doesn't bore the socks off Beyzavi is when it makes him really mad.
It did that last Saturday night when he, his girlfriend and a pal couldn't get near Second Avenue for a restaurant dinner for a departing friend. Torchlight Parade madness blocked the way.
Let's hope Beyzavi wasn't stuck on the already-overloaded I-90 bridge yesterday when Blue Angels practice runs shut down traffic. It'll happen again today.
Just what Seattle needs with its other bridge bashed.
Still, there are some who would gladly sit stalled in the sun during a Blue Angel rehearsal. And one of them is Beyzavi's boss, Seafair fanatic Mike Plonski.
"He's old," Beyzavi joked, explaining his boss' unabashed boosterism for Seafair.
Plonski, the general manager at Tubs, wrapped his arms around Seafair in 1983, the summer he moved here after finishing college, holding tight ever since. "It's tradition. It IS Seattle," Plonski gushed yesterday.
Mostly, he loves the hydro races on Lake Washington.
Where else, Plonski asks, can you spend a whole day sitting on a barge in the sun with the same bunch of friends, watching the boats streak by?
But something's amiss, Plonski admits. Maybe it's generational.
Seven or eight years ago Plonski could barely scrounge a kid to work at Tubs on Seafair race day.
"I had to pay time and a half," he recalled.
Now? No problem. People Farzin's age couldn't care less, he says.
Ask them about parades, Seafair pirates, clowns and dancing clams and they sound like vice presidential nominee Dick Cheney at the GOP convention podium this week saying, "It's time for them to go!"
To a lot of people, Seafair pirates epitomize what is old-timey, anachronistic, even offensive about a celebration whose time has passed.
Beth Wojick would argue that the pirates have been extensively "retrained." They're more civilized, says the president of Seafair.
They no longer grab women out of parade crowds, covering their necks with grease paint kisses and whisker burns.
They no longer scare the squibs out of screaming toddlers.
They don't even pin on pirate badges; they hand them out at arm's length.
Is that progress, I wonder? Or is a politically correct pirate kind of besides the point?
Then, of course, there are the annual Seafair protests.
It didn't start this year with the arrival of the Trident nuclear sub, the USS Alabama, you know.
In fact, I would argue that protests have been the most -- maybe the only -- engrossing thing about Seafair for over a decade.
My favorite year was '91 when Seattle planned, then dumped, a welcome home parade for the local heroes of Operation Desert Storm.
So 1,300 marching troops were tacked on to the Torchlight event, instead.
Thanks, but no tanks, said organizers. Seafair allowed a few empty short-range missile launching tubes into the parade but asked the military to check their other weapons at Seattle's door.
That summer a tiny neighborhood parade over in Tahuyacq on Hood Canal featured a counterdemonstration in the form of a homemade tank festooned with fly swatters.
This year, Seattle City Councilman Richard Conlin introduced a resolution asking the Navy to send sailors but leave the sub at home.
Resolution supporter and Councilman Nick Licata told me yesterday it's time for Seafair to reconsider what, exactly, it's celebrating.
Frankly, matey, I think it's time to reconsider Seafair altogether.
To me, Seafair is a lot like sex. Unless you're directly involved, it looks sort of silly.
Susan Paynter said:
SEATTLE POST-INTELLIGENCER COLUMNIST
FARZIN BEYZAVI IS a guest most hosts would invite to a party: good-looking, 21, witty and groomed to the teeth.
But, if your party is Seafair, don't ask. The clerk at Tubs in Seattle's University District has lived here all his life. And he's ignored Seafair just as long.
The only event Beyzavi ever attended was one neighborhood parade in Lake City. His parents dragged him when he was too small to resist.
"I have no idea what (Seafair) is supposed to be about," Beyzavi said yesterday. "A bunch of hydros?"
The only time Seafair doesn't bore the socks off Beyzavi is when it makes him really mad.
It did that last Saturday night when he, his girlfriend and a pal couldn't get near Second Avenue for a restaurant dinner for a departing friend. Torchlight Parade madness blocked the way.
Let's hope Beyzavi wasn't stuck on the already-overloaded I-90 bridge yesterday when Blue Angels practice runs shut down traffic. It'll happen again today.
Just what Seattle needs with its other bridge bashed.
Still, there are some who would gladly sit stalled in the sun during a Blue Angel rehearsal. And one of them is Beyzavi's boss, Seafair fanatic Mike Plonski.
"He's old," Beyzavi joked, explaining his boss' unabashed boosterism for Seafair.
Plonski, the general manager at Tubs, wrapped his arms around Seafair in 1983, the summer he moved here after finishing college, holding tight ever since. "It's tradition. It IS Seattle," Plonski gushed yesterday.
Mostly, he loves the hydro races on Lake Washington.
Where else, Plonski asks, can you spend a whole day sitting on a barge in the sun with the same bunch of friends, watching the boats streak by?
But something's amiss, Plonski admits. Maybe it's generational.
Seven or eight years ago Plonski could barely scrounge a kid to work at Tubs on Seafair race day.
"I had to pay time and a half," he recalled.
Now? No problem. People Farzin's age couldn't care less, he says.
Ask them about parades, Seafair pirates, clowns and dancing clams and they sound like vice presidential nominee Dick Cheney at the GOP convention podium this week saying, "It's time for them to go!"
To a lot of people, Seafair pirates epitomize what is old-timey, anachronistic, even offensive about a celebration whose time has passed.
Beth Wojick would argue that the pirates have been extensively "retrained." They're more civilized, says the president of Seafair.
They no longer grab women out of parade crowds, covering their necks with grease paint kisses and whisker burns.
They no longer scare the squibs out of screaming toddlers.
They don't even pin on pirate badges; they hand them out at arm's length.
Is that progress, I wonder? Or is a politically correct pirate kind of besides the point?
Then, of course, there are the annual Seafair protests.
It didn't start this year with the arrival of the Trident nuclear sub, the USS Alabama, you know.
In fact, I would argue that protests have been the most -- maybe the only -- engrossing thing about Seafair for over a decade.
My favorite year was '91 when Seattle planned, then dumped, a welcome home parade for the local heroes of Operation Desert Storm.
So 1,300 marching troops were tacked on to the Torchlight event, instead.
Thanks, but no tanks, said organizers. Seafair allowed a few empty short-range missile launching tubes into the parade but asked the military to check their other weapons at Seattle's door.
That summer a tiny neighborhood parade over in Tahuyacq on Hood Canal featured a counterdemonstration in the form of a homemade tank festooned with fly swatters.
This year, Seattle City Councilman Richard Conlin introduced a resolution asking the Navy to send sailors but leave the sub at home.
Resolution supporter and Councilman Nick Licata told me yesterday it's time for Seafair to reconsider what, exactly, it's celebrating.
Frankly, matey, I think it's time to reconsider Seafair altogether.
To me, Seafair is a lot like sex. Unless you're directly involved, it looks sort of silly.
The Blue Angels are an exciting show - I've seen it a few times with my son. But if you've ever seen them womping 80 feet over your head like I have, you'll know they're trashing fossil fuel and dumping out smokey global-warming pollution at a truly astounding rate that is a shrieking metaphor for the entire US economy.
When you add to that the fact that they are the symbol of US military pride and all the wastefulness that has gone along with that pride over the years and now in Iraq, they represent an image that, while it has been dear to this country for a long time, that is now way out of date.
It's time for this country to be smart again, be efficient, be cooperative with our fellow humans, and maintain the real strength of character that uses force only as a very last resort, not the foolish weakness and bluster of Mr. Bush.
So, it would be fitting that we give the Blue Angels a rest, though we are all proud of the great skill and strength that they represented in a time when oil was dirt cheap and there were wars that really had to be fought.
The new challenges are as big or bigger, but require something very different.
of course its worth the money its a time honored
tradition for them to fly at events like this.
people need to quit whining.
Sure ,they are and always have been worth the money. Maybe they could pay for it this year by not fueling up the black op jets that criss cross our skies every day.I'm pretty sure just stopping those high flying chemical polluters for just one day would be more than enough to pay for some real entertainment
Why would If it's worth the money? not a single dime of the cost comes from the seattle tax payer. The Seafair organization pays for all of this through sponsors. Do your research NWCN before you make a fool of yourself and post something stupid like this.
The Blue Angels are as much a part of Seafair as are the hydroplane races. The hydroplanes also use a lot of fuel. If we use that as an excuse to cancel the Angels then we may as well also cance the hydroplanes. Then we may as well cancel Seafair altogether. Without them there is no Seafair. The rest of the Seafair activities are insignificant compared to these two.
Let's just do it the right way and cancel Seafair. Problem solved.
Broadcasting the same stuff 24 hours a day costs money too .. I wonder what that impact is.
I agree to Kelly. The Blue angels and Hydroplanes are creating not just "Honored tradition" but also are pollution in air, water,and the noise. Don't forget , we have we are facing a lot of problems such as global warming and energy crisis. Who pay for it is not a issue.
It's time to be smart Seattle. Seafair, Be Green.
I agree to Kelly. The Blue angels and Hydroplanes are creating not just "Honored tradition" but also are pollution in air, water,and the noise. Don't forget , we have we are facing a lot of problems such as global warming and energy crisis. Who pay for it is not a issue.
It's time to be smart Seattle. Seafair, Be Green.
I agree to Kelly. The Blue angels and Hydroplanes are creating not just "Honored tradition" but also are pollution in air, water,and the noise. Don't forget , we have we are facing a lot of problems such as global warming and energy crisis. Who pay for it is not a issue.
It's time to be smart Seattle. Seafair, Be Green.
By Susan Paynter SEATTLE POST-INTELLIGENCER COLUMNIST
FARZIN BEYZAVI IS a guest most hosts would invite to a party: good-looking, 21, witty and groomed to the teeth.
But, if your party is Seafair, don't ask. The clerk at Tubs in Seattle's University District has lived here all his life. And he's ignored Seafair just as long.
The only event Beyzavi ever attended was one neighborhood parade in Lake City. His parents dragged him when he was too small to resist.
"I have no idea what (Seafair) is supposed to be about," Beyzavi said yesterday. "A bunch of hydros?"
The only time Seafair doesn't bore the socks off Beyzavi is when it makes him really mad.
It did that last Saturday night when he, his girlfriend and a pal couldn't get near Second Avenue for a restaurant dinner for a departing friend. Torchlight Parade madness blocked the way.
Let's hope Beyzavi wasn't stuck on the already-overloaded I-90 bridge yesterday when Blue Angels practice runs shut down traffic. It'll happen again today.
Just what Seattle needs with its other bridge bashed.
Still, there are some who would gladly sit stalled in the sun during a Blue Angel rehearsal. And one of them is Beyzavi's boss, Seafair fanatic Mike Plonski.
"He's old," Beyzavi joked, explaining his boss' unabashed boosterism for Seafair.
Plonski, the general manager at Tubs, wrapped his arms around Seafair in 1983, the summer he moved here after finishing college, holding tight ever since. "It's tradition. It IS Seattle," Plonski gushed yesterday.
Mostly, he loves the hydro races on Lake Washington.
Where else, Plonski asks, can you spend a whole day sitting on a barge in the sun with the same bunch of friends, watching the boats streak by?
But something's amiss, Plonski admits. Maybe it's generational.
Seven or eight years ago Plonski could barely scrounge a kid to work at Tubs on Seafair race day.
"I had to pay time and a half," he recalled.
Now? No problem. People Farzin's age couldn't care less, he says.
Ask them about parades, Seafair pirates, clowns and dancing clams and they sound like vice presidential nominee Dick Cheney at the GOP convention podium this week saying, "It's time for them to go!"
To a lot of people, Seafair pirates epitomize what is old-timey, anachronistic, even offensive about a celebration whose time has passed.
Beth Wojick would argue that the pirates have been extensively "retrained." They're more civilized, says the president of Seafair.
They no longer grab women out of parade crowds, covering their necks with grease paint kisses and whisker burns.
They no longer scare the squibs out of screaming toddlers.
They don't even pin on pirate badges; they hand them out at arm's length.
Is that progress, I wonder? Or is a politically correct pirate kind of besides the point?
Then, of course, there are the annual Seafair protests.
It didn't start this year with the arrival of the Trident nuclear sub, the USS Alabama, you know.
In fact, I would argue that protests have been the most -- maybe the only -- engrossing thing about Seafair for over a decade.
My favorite year was '91 when Seattle planned, then dumped, a welcome home parade for the local heroes of Operation Desert Storm.
So 1,300 marching troops were tacked on to the Torchlight event, instead.
Thanks, but no tanks, said organizers. Seafair allowed a few empty short-range missile launching tubes into the parade but asked the military to check their other weapons at Seattle's door.
That summer a tiny neighborhood parade over in Tahuyacq on Hood Canal featured a counterdemonstration in the form of a homemade tank festooned with fly swatters.
This year, Seattle City Councilman Richard Conlin introduced a resolution asking the Navy to send sailors but leave the sub at home.
Resolution supporter and Councilman Nick Licata told me yesterday it's time for Seafair to reconsider what, exactly, it's celebrating.
Frankly, matey, I think it's time to reconsider Seafair altogether.
To me, Seafair is a lot like sex. Unless you're directly involved, it looks sort of silly.
SEATTLE POST-INTELLIGENCER COLUMNIST
FARZIN BEYZAVI IS a guest most hosts would invite to a party: good-looking, 21, witty and groomed to the teeth.
But, if your party is Seafair, don't ask. The clerk at Tubs in Seattle's University District has lived here all his life. And he's ignored Seafair just as long.
The only event Beyzavi ever attended was one neighborhood parade in Lake City. His parents dragged him when he was too small to resist.
"I have no idea what (Seafair) is supposed to be about," Beyzavi said yesterday. "A bunch of hydros?"
The only time Seafair doesn't bore the socks off Beyzavi is when it makes him really mad.
It did that last Saturday night when he, his girlfriend and a pal couldn't get near Second Avenue for a restaurant dinner for a departing friend. Torchlight Parade madness blocked the way.
Let's hope Beyzavi wasn't stuck on the already-overloaded I-90 bridge yesterday when Blue Angels practice runs shut down traffic. It'll happen again today.
Just what Seattle needs with its other bridge bashed.
Still, there are some who would gladly sit stalled in the sun during a Blue Angel rehearsal. And one of them is Beyzavi's boss, Seafair fanatic Mike Plonski.
"He's old," Beyzavi joked, explaining his boss' unabashed boosterism for Seafair.
Plonski, the general manager at Tubs, wrapped his arms around Seafair in 1983, the summer he moved here after finishing college, holding tight ever since. "It's tradition. It IS Seattle," Plonski gushed yesterday.
Mostly, he loves the hydro races on Lake Washington.
Where else, Plonski asks, can you spend a whole day sitting on a barge in the sun with the same bunch of friends, watching the boats streak by?
But something's amiss, Plonski admits. Maybe it's generational.
Seven or eight years ago Plonski could barely scrounge a kid to work at Tubs on Seafair race day.
"I had to pay time and a half," he recalled.
Now? No problem. People Farzin's age couldn't care less, he says.
Ask them about parades, Seafair pirates, clowns and dancing clams and they sound like vice presidential nominee Dick Cheney at the GOP convention podium this week saying, "It's time for them to go!"
To a lot of people, Seafair pirates epitomize what is old-timey, anachronistic, even offensive about a celebration whose time has passed.
Beth Wojick would argue that the pirates have been extensively "retrained." They're more civilized, says the president of Seafair.
They no longer grab women out of parade crowds, covering their necks with grease paint kisses and whisker burns.
They no longer scare the squibs out of screaming toddlers.
They don't even pin on pirate badges; they hand them out at arm's length.
Is that progress, I wonder? Or is a politically correct pirate kind of besides the point?
Then, of course, there are the annual Seafair protests.
It didn't start this year with the arrival of the Trident nuclear sub, the USS Alabama, you know.
In fact, I would argue that protests have been the most -- maybe the only -- engrossing thing about Seafair for over a decade.
My favorite year was '91 when Seattle planned, then dumped, a welcome home parade for the local heroes of Operation Desert Storm.
So 1,300 marching troops were tacked on to the Torchlight event, instead.
Thanks, but no tanks, said organizers. Seafair allowed a few empty short-range missile launching tubes into the parade but asked the military to check their other weapons at Seattle's door.
That summer a tiny neighborhood parade over in Tahuyacq on Hood Canal featured a counterdemonstration in the form of a homemade tank festooned with fly swatters.
This year, Seattle City Councilman Richard Conlin introduced a resolution asking the Navy to send sailors but leave the sub at home.
Resolution supporter and Councilman Nick Licata told me yesterday it's time for Seafair to reconsider what, exactly, it's celebrating.
Frankly, matey, I think it's time to reconsider Seafair altogether.
To me, Seafair is a lot like sex. Unless you're directly involved, it looks sort of silly.
SEATTLE POST-INTELLIGENCER COLUMNIST
FARZIN BEYZAVI IS a guest most hosts would invite to a party: good-looking, 21, witty and groomed to the teeth.
But, if your party is Seafair, don't ask. The clerk at Tubs in Seattle's University District has lived here all his life. And he's ignored Seafair just as long.
The only event Beyzavi ever attended was one neighborhood parade in Lake City. His parents dragged him when he was too small to resist.
"I have no idea what (Seafair) is supposed to be about," Beyzavi said yesterday. "A bunch of hydros?"
The only time Seafair doesn't bore the socks off Beyzavi is when it makes him really mad.
It did that last Saturday night when he, his girlfriend and a pal couldn't get near Second Avenue for a restaurant dinner for a departing friend. Torchlight Parade madness blocked the way.
Let's hope Beyzavi wasn't stuck on the already-overloaded I-90 bridge yesterday when Blue Angels practice runs shut down traffic. It'll happen again today.
Just what Seattle needs with its other bridge bashed.
Still, there are some who would gladly sit stalled in the sun during a Blue Angel rehearsal. And one of them is Beyzavi's boss, Seafair fanatic Mike Plonski.
"He's old," Beyzavi joked, explaining his boss' unabashed boosterism for Seafair.
Plonski, the general manager at Tubs, wrapped his arms around Seafair in 1983, the summer he moved here after finishing college, holding tight ever since. "It's tradition. It IS Seattle," Plonski gushed yesterday.
Mostly, he loves the hydro races on Lake Washington.
Where else, Plonski asks, can you spend a whole day sitting on a barge in the sun with the same bunch of friends, watching the boats streak by?
But something's amiss, Plonski admits. Maybe it's generational.
Seven or eight years ago Plonski could barely scrounge a kid to work at Tubs on Seafair race day.
"I had to pay time and a half," he recalled.
Now? No problem. People Farzin's age couldn't care less, he says.
Ask them about parades, Seafair pirates, clowns and dancing clams and they sound like vice presidential nominee Dick Cheney at the GOP convention podium this week saying, "It's time for them to go!"
To a lot of people, Seafair pirates epitomize what is old-timey, anachronistic, even offensive about a celebration whose time has passed.
Beth Wojick would argue that the pirates have been extensively "retrained." They're more civilized, says the president of Seafair.
They no longer grab women out of parade crowds, covering their necks with grease paint kisses and whisker burns.
They no longer scare the squibs out of screaming toddlers.
They don't even pin on pirate badges; they hand them out at arm's length.
Is that progress, I wonder? Or is a politically correct pirate kind of besides the point?
Then, of course, there are the annual Seafair protests.
It didn't start this year with the arrival of the Trident nuclear sub, the USS Alabama, you know.
In fact, I would argue that protests have been the most -- maybe the only -- engrossing thing about Seafair for over a decade.
My favorite year was '91 when Seattle planned, then dumped, a welcome home parade for the local heroes of Operation Desert Storm.
So 1,300 marching troops were tacked on to the Torchlight event, instead.
Thanks, but no tanks, said organizers. Seafair allowed a few empty short-range missile launching tubes into the parade but asked the military to check their other weapons at Seattle's door.
That summer a tiny neighborhood parade over in Tahuyacq on Hood Canal featured a counterdemonstration in the form of a homemade tank festooned with fly swatters.
This year, Seattle City Councilman Richard Conlin introduced a resolution asking the Navy to send sailors but leave the sub at home.
Resolution supporter and Councilman Nick Licata told me yesterday it's time for Seafair to reconsider what, exactly, it's celebrating.
Frankly, matey, I think it's time to reconsider Seafair altogether.
To me, Seafair is a lot like sex. Unless you're directly involved, it looks sort of silly.