VFYW: Kamala's Old Stomping Grounds

For contest #380, we find ourselves at the intersection of elites and terrorism. Plus, possums!

(For the View From Your Window contest, the results below exceed the content limit for Substack’s email service, so to ensure that you see the full results, click the headline above.)

First up, our UWS super-sleuth raised in NYC:

Oy, Wednesday again! I just got back from a short vaca in Denver (sorry, no suitable views from our downtown hotel), and I totally lost track of the weekly deadline. So I’m throwing my hat in the ring with Chicago. (Though it could be Detroit. Dear god, don’t let it be Denver!)

To make up for the fact that this is my second week of no halfway-decent guess (and to erase the embarrassment of mistaking Seattle for Tallinn), I’ll add to last week’s comments on the Pike Place Market. While working in a consulting firm in the early 2000s, I regularly ran workshops on training tools and techniques. One of the topics in the workshop was how to tell a story — a critical skill for anyone trying to keep a room of adults focused on learning for days at a time.

We used the book FISH! — about the Pike Place Market fishmongers — as part of exercise in storytelling. We had participants read the book, then tell a very short personal story that illustrated one of the four principles of the FISH! philosophy: 1) play; 2) make their day; 3) be present in the moment; and 4) choose your attitude.

I normally LOATHE this kind of corporate motivational schtick, but corny as the book was, the exercise worked beautifully. Participants had an easy time coming up with their own narratives, the emotional content was high, and participants gave each other feedback on how to polish their stories. It was very satisfying to see folks who initially declared “I can’t tell a story” morph into people telling a story right then and there. We certainly got our money’s worth out of that little book!

Looking forward to the answer to this week’s inscrutable view — and all the surrounding stories. VFYW sleuths/storytellers don’t need no stinkin’ workshop!  

Maybe the SF super-sleuth could use some motivational fish:

After reading last week’s responses for Seattle, I see that my VFYW approach reflects my work style: I like to figure out the big picture, and then leave the details (e.g., the exact window) to others …

From the super-sleuth in Augusta, GA:

I really enjoyed all the Seattle entries last week, but I noticed a glaring omission. All that Pacific Northwest seafood and no one brought up the geoduck?

It was right there in front of everyone’s face, and not one person went for it?! I must say I’m a little disappointed at the maturity level on display here. Much too high.

So was the number of entries to sift through last week: well over a hundred. I let a great one fall through the cracks, from our super-sleuth in Warrensburg, but here’s a snippet:

My own “encounter” with Seattle came in 1992:

This is one of those songs that changed my life — the first time my friend played it for me on a shitty boombox in my parent’s basement. The single had come out the year before, but it was a while before I caught on. Still, as a 12-year-old nerd desperate to find a way to be cool at a supremely awkward age, the Seattle grunge scene erupted at just the right time. 

I can’t say I ever reached cool, but man did it help to start wearing some Nirvana or Soundgarden shirts to school. Nirvana was especially great because I was teaching myself to play guitar, and Kurt Cobain’s power chord-heavy instrumentation was a lot easier to emulate than Pearl Jam’s Mike McCready’s insane riffs!  

I didn’t really get what these songs were about at the time, but I think there was something primal about the feeling the songs created, somehow resonating with the moody teenager I was becoming.  That’s in part why Cobain’s suicide was so shocking for me in 1994 and why, even though I rarely listen to them anymore, I can still sing along word for word whenever these songs come on my car radio.  

Another followup to Seattle:

Nice red herring last week to keep us on our toes. It reminded me to apply a philosophical principle that has guided me since my youth:

Yet another followup from a sleuth in Chicago:

Last week’s series of Seattle-based film clips had one glaring omission: Alan Rudolph’s stylish 1985 modern noir, Trouble in Mind. Rudolph’s work seems almost forgotten these days. I remember seeing it in the theatre and wondering to myself, “Where was this darned thing filmed?” — because not until late in the movie do we catch a view of the Space Needle. Seattle is never named in the movie; it’s given the sobriquet “Rain City.”

Although Ebert gave it four stars, I wonder how well it stands up today. And I think that one reviewer’s comparison to Casablanca is a rain-cloud too far. As a bonus, Rudolph cast Divine in a male role as a gangster. It’s a rare opportunity to see him in male clothes in a mainstream film. You’ll see him in this trailer — he looks pretty sharp in a tux:

Looking to this week’s contest, that same sleuth writes:

Man oh man, these last few weeks have been HARD! This week’s clues: a tennis court; a lonely, abandoned blue soft drink cup; a modern, high-rise apartment building; a fuzzy blue trash container in the park (or is it a fire-plug?); and cars with no front license plates.

However, there is a dealer’s plate on the front of the Ford truck. Although it’s blurry, it looks like it could say “Value.” I googled Value Ford and found a Valu-Ford in Morris, Minnesota. The largest city close to Morris is Minneapolis. So, that’s my guess.

On a side note, my last entry was several weeks ago. The VFYW was in Massachusetts, but I guessed Minneapolis because one rooftop reminded me of Mary Richards’ apartment building in Minneapolis. I suppose that if I continue to guess Minneapolis for every American-looking View, I’ll eventually hit the jackpot.

From a sleuth who’s hit the jackpot before:

I have no idea this week. But my guess is somewhere in Baltimore. I consider it a positive VFYW outcome if I’m close to the correct latitude. Longitude would also be nice.

From another previous winner:

I’m throwing in the towel and guessing Philadelphia. The conical roof suggested Midwest or Northeast to me, as did the general vibe.

There are MANY satellite tours of parks with ball fields in various cities. I tried and failed to identify the tall building in the background — the late 19th century-ish one closer in — and the apartment building with balconies. I searched different views of the left side of the picture: I see a park sign, what looks like some little structure in the trees, and buildings peeping out over the top. Google thought I wanted to know about American Elms.

I took way too long to realize I should winnow down by states that don’t require front license plates. (States and provinces, actually — Canadians like Fords, and Quebec doesn’t require front plates). Indiana? (But you just did Indianapolis!) Michigan? PA? (Though, ugh, maybe Jersey — because it’s right over the border from Philly?) DE? I skipped the Southwest and West because of the aforementioned architecture/vibe. More satellite tours. No luck.

I tried to figure out where one might find street name signs with black lettering on a white background, because I think I see one. A few hints, but nothing dispositive. I went down a rabbit hole about parking-lot line striping, and another about that speed camera-like device, which appeared to be inside the park. When I asked my husband if he knew of a regional convenience store or fast-food place known for bright blue cups, thinking the trash on the ground might help me out, I realized this was insane. And that perhaps I was insane.

So … I’m guessing Philly.

Here’s Chini:

The grand-champion adds a crucial clue: