You had to be there, but here’s what happened before you were
Rain-soaked tables at Marination in West Seattle. The skyline sat quiet while we waited on fish tacos.
We showed up early.
Before the projectors. Before the talks. Before the venue even opened its doors. We found ourselves in a series of low-key days that felt more like community than prep. Clogged gates, backyard tech checks, beaver dams, beer pitchers, trolls, and salmon. This is what led up to TezCon.
Monday: The Arrival
We caught the 6 AM out of Phoenix. Not because we had to but because we wanted to be early. Beat the crowds. Get settled. We could breathe a little before the week started moving.
That plan held up until we landed.
SeaTac gave us a smooth descent, then parked us on the tarmac with nowhere to go. Our gate was ready. The plane blocking it was not. We waited. And waited. Eventually, the pilot got on the mic and said we’d deboard. It wasn’t until I stepped off the plane that I realized we’d be taking buses across the tarmac. Not a shuttle. It’s not one of those rolling sky bridges. Actual buses.
The first bus was full, so they had us wait until they could load us like a field trip group. We drove past a full sweep of the airport. The service trucks, parked jets, baggage trains, and the whole industrial backstage of air travel.
We finally made it to the terminal. And somehow, our luggage had already arrived. Standing proud on the carousel, it felt like it knew the place better than we did.
That was the first hour in Seattle. TezCon hadn’t even started, and it already felt like a story.
Out by the creek behind Marc’s place, looking for signs of the beavers. Wednesday: Fish Tacos and Field Checks
Marc Fendel invited us over that night. Just a low-key hang to run through the tech and make sure the livestream wouldn’t implode mid-show. Ryan Tanaka came through, too.
We set up mics in the kitchen, tested angles, and tweaked audio. It all felt casual until the feed went live on the test server. Then it clicked: we were actually doing this.
Dinner was fish tacos. Simple, fresh, perfect. We ate, sitting around the table in the backyard, talking Etherlink, music, and migration stories. The kind of conversation that starts in one place and ends somewhere better.
After the gear check and cleanup, we wandered to the creek behind Marc’s place. It was dark but quiet in a way you notice. That’s when we saw it, a massive beaver dam. Easily sixteen feet tall. It was stacked with branches and mud and whatever else they could drag across the water.
You don’t usually get to see them up close. The animals are shy. But the signs were everywhere. We saw gnawed stumps, fresh cuts, and little paths through the brush. The kind of structure that seems haphazardly thrown together in chaos, but it just holds.
Someone joked that beavers might be the only builders not trying to pitch a token. We laughed but stood there longer than we expected.
Thursday afternoon at Marination. Hot food, cold benches, and a skyline that didn’t ask for attention. Thursday: Rain, Comfort Food, and a Troll
We met up at Jack Block Park that afternoon, right on the edge of Alki.
It was one of those classic Seattle days: light rain and just enough wind to make you wonder if it was worth being outside. But the view made the decision for us. The whole skyline stretched out across the water. You could see the cranes, the ferries, the needle: a majestic city under a soft gray sky.
We walked the waterfront with an old friend. We talked about AI, crypto, moderation, what the space needs, and what it’s tired of. The kind of conversation you don’t plan, it just grows legs and keeps moving.
We were soaking wet from the rain when we wrapped the loop. It still didn’t matter.
Dinner was just down the road at Marination. It’s a local Hawaiian spot with outdoor seating and a view that makes up for the wet benches. I got the Loco Moco. Ryan did, too, with a side of mac salad. Fish tacos hit again. Fish and chips made the rounds. Everything came out fast, hot, and somehow better in the cold.
We didn’t talk shop. Just ate, passed plates around, wiped off the tables, and let the conversation drift.
After dinner, we drove over to Lincoln Park. We parked in the middle lot and followed the trail to the beach. That’s where we found it: the troll.
It towered above us sixteen feet tall. Carved from driftwood, rope, and branches. Seashells for nails. It looked like it grew out of the landscape, like the tide left it behind.
I feel like if I hadn’t been paying attention I really would have missed it. Just a massive wooden figure half-watching the shore. The kind of art that doesn’t need an audience.
We stood there for a long time.
Inside the Duwamish Longhouse. Legacy on the walls, presence in the room. Friday: From the Longhouse to Late Night Bass
The Duwamish Longhouse sits across from the river that carries their name. Same name the city took from their chief, Chief Seattle. You’d think that kind of legacy would come with some level of recognition. But no. The tribe still isn’t federally recognized.
You don’t really feel how wrong that is until you stand in the building. Until you meet the people who keep it running. We weren’t even supposed to see the restoration area out back. But as we were leaving, one of the women working there stopped us and offered a quick tour.
She showed us where the greenbelt used to be. She described a thick tangle of snowberries and brush no one could walk through. Now there’s a trail that cuts through it. Leads to a greenhouse, a pollination area, even a classroom.
Everything was made from reclaimed space. A working nursery where there used to be dead ground. A preserve built by hand. It didn’t feel like a project. It felt like care.
Food, jokes, and the part of Friday that didn’t need a schedule.
Afterward, we hit a nearby bar for happy hour. Pitchers of cider and beer. A table full of appetizers that kept disappearing. Chris Pinnock came through and joined us. We stayed longer than planned. Talked music, stream logistics, food, nothing. Just letting the night hang out.
Now we’re back at Marc Fendel’s place. Chris is on bass. Salmon’s on the grill. Everyone’s tired in the best way.
Tomorrow’s TezCon.
Boots on the Ground: An Inside Look Leading Up to TezCon was originally published in Tezos Commons on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.