The View from Nowhere

I admit it, I’m an altruist.  I believe that deep down, everybody just wants to do the right thing and get along.  Of course everyone who is not me clearly understands that this is complete bullshit.  This doesn’t stop me from continuing to believe that the inner goody-goody in everybody’s soul is firmly at the helm.

This gets me into trouble alot.  For example, in conversation if someone makes a snide remark I don’t think, “Wow, what a jerk!” I think, “I’m sure they didn’t mean that, they must be just having a bad day.”  Seeing this in print makes me look like some kind of Ned Flanders.  I guess there are worse things than being the Dad that Bart never had.

But I digress.  This entry is not about loving people, it is about running them over with your car.  Seattleites are infamous for grousing about traffic.  It doesn’t help that the world’s largest software maker and 800 pound gorilla of employment is separated from a huge portion of its workforce by a relatively tiny floating bridge.  This fact plus ubiquitous hills, plus several other inconveniently located bodies of water , plus lack of east/west public transit makes for a potent cocktail with a mean rush-hour hangover.  So people spend a lot of time sitting in their cars going nowhere fast.

This will understandably make people cranky, but driving habits are not the best either.  Tailgating is a major issue but so are curiosity slowdowns.  As soon as the sun emerges from Seattle’s famous clouds, people stop to smell the flowers.  Or maybe just stare at the water, or sun, or whatever other shiny thing catches their eye that moment.  Passive aggressive driving is also the norm.  The Washington Driver’s Manual must have a section on how to drive slow until someone tries to pass, then speed up to block them, or how to move assertively into an intersection at a four way stop and then, stop as to let someone else go.

Another thrill is doing things that the cops won’t stop you for.  Running red lights is a favorite Seattle habit.  But so is moving aggressively at pedestrians.  As soon as the peds are in the cross-hairs of the average motorist’s hood, it is time to strike!  What will the ped do?  Stop the car?  Maybe with their face, but no worry to the steel encased driver.  Being the aforementioned sucker, ehem, altruist, I usually enter a crosswalk with the assumption that everyone will behave and I can move along in the benign manner to which I am accustomed.  The irrisistable situation presents itself however, where the motorist can be a tough guy with no worry of any retribution.  If they charge the crosswalk, cheap hoo-has can be had at no risk.  Score!  I don’t get it.  I guess the German word schadenfreuden says it all.  But hey, I’m Ned Flanders, and when you run me over in a crosswalk, you’ll know it’s me from the muffled “Hidely ho!” coming from under the floor.