I used to watch the sunrise every Monday, partly because I liked to watch the Puget Sound breathing and see the sun glint on the backs of seals, and partly because I was in high school then, and high schoolers were supposed to hate mornings. It took three minutes behind a frosted windshield to get to the old pier, and, shivering above the starfish that clung to the splintered pillars below, it took long underwear and an extra jacket to keep me there. I would wear my long underwear for the rest of the day, feeling like a fur trapping Superman throughout econ, band, English, and calculus.
The old pier doesn’t exist anymore. A hundred years of salt, sun, and use made it unsafe, and creosote made it a hazard, thus saith the Department of Natural Resources, so barnacled pilings and slimy boards were torn down to make room for a $1.4 million replacement of steel and plastic.