At the front door, blandly courteous security men inspect our parcels. I somehow set off the metal detector and a guard with a hand-held detector has me stand with my hands in the air and my legs spread while he runs the device over my body. I'm clean, and we get inside. Entering the spacious hall, the eye is grabbed by several video screens, two stories high and about 60 feet across. They flash majestic aerial scenes of Northwest natural beauty, interspersed with cuts of cargo containers being hauled off ships at the Port of Seattle.
Colorful lights swirl across the floor as a nine-piece band plays smooth Latin jazz.
A massive sushi bar, tender roast lamb, and more seafood than you can image cover table after table. A journalist in a poorly-fitting suit and an African accent turns away from a serving table with a plate piled high and a wide grin on his face. It felt like going to a ball thrown by Marie Antoinette. Outside, the police stood with their backs toward the revelers, facing the protesting rabble which had by now grown to more than 2,000. An inter-faith church group was sponsoring the rally, an attempt to link hands to form a symbolic chain around the opulent event that was taking place within five blocks of Seattle's highest concentration of homeless people.