Eric Richards Typing!
Sunday, May 07, 2006
The Foam that Ate Woodinville 

I was out of town for training last week, from Monday until late Thursday. Elisa and I had pre-planned to go to Red Hook Forecasters Pub Thursday night. We got there when the sun was still out but, ooo, darn, the outside deck is not open yet. They say it usually opens Memorial Day. Okay, fine.

I had a couple of pints of the Porter and a California burger (I know, seeding crazy-cow holes in my head left and right). Afterwards, we went for a walk to enjoy the evening.

As we turned the corner around the pub and headed between the two main Red Hook buildings, I lifted my head back, smelling the air, and exclaimed, "Berries!" The fragrance faded after a few steps.


Elisa and I looked around for what kind of bush or tree could be emitting such a sweet smell.


A thick foam was escaping out of Red Hook. Mesmerized, we walked towards it.

On the side of the building was a non-discrete overflow valve, one you probably wouldn't notice if it wasn't currently emitting the occasional huge wad of sweet smelling foam. Beneath the valve was a shrub... a shrub island, in fact, surrounded by a thick pond of foam.


Hmm, perhaps a happy shrub. There wasn't drainage or anything special under this foam valve. Everything beneath was landscaped as if this valve's use wasn't to be all that common. Elisa and I stepped closer and I remarked how this is the point in most bad horror movies where the dumb young couple get far too close the suspicious goo and get eaten.

We enjoyed the foam show for a little bit more (the Porter kicking around in me probably made the show all that more entertaining) and then continued on our way. As we reached the end of Red Hook closer to the Willows Lodge, two workers walked our way on a break. Elisa asked them about the foam and they laughed.

It seems someone didn't manage a valve correctly and the CO2 level got out of whack. It's not something that usually happens.

We headed home and I was happy that at least our house was up the hill a good bit that any foam that filled the valley that night probably - probably - wouldn't reach the house.


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