5 posts tagged “seattle sucks”

So I hear on the radio this morning that the Statue of Liberty’s crown will be reopened to the public on July 4, for the first time following 9/11/2001.

Which reminded me of something someone told me the other week. It costs $16 (AU 20.8, EU 11.8 ) to ride up Seattle’s Space Needle. Sixteen bucks!  What a crock, a ripoff! - but that’s Seattle, overpriced and full of itself.

So I ask her what a drink at the top costs. She didn’t know. There’s a bar but it’s part of the restaurant and you need reservations, even for a drink, and it ain’t cheap.  Read that dinner for two runs a couple hundred (AU 260, EU 147).

There’s also a snack and coffee bar for us pitiful poor folk. Whaddya reckon a small coffee runs? My guess is $4 (AU 5.2, EU 2.9).

So $16 for Seattle’s Space Needle.

Got me wondering what it costs to enter the Statue of Liberty so I researched it.

It’s $22 and that includes the ferry to the statue and Ellis Islands. Actually, there’s a wide variety of packages that factor in points of departure, the museum, reservations to advance visitors to the front to bypass long security lines and so forth. 

Still, $22 (AU 28.6, EU 16.2) gets you over to and into Lady Liberty, one of the world’s most recognized symbols, one replete with history, draw and impact.

And $16 gets you into the Needle (which btw many say ain't all that impressive).

Am I alone in spotting something wrong with this picture?

I’m glad the Lady’s crown is reopening, it's past time for the country to move on from 9/11. Initially only 30 visitors per hour will be allowed entry. That’s gonna be one helluva wait. Best bring a sack meal, a jug of water, a dose of patience and a book or three.

Seattle's a bit of a laughing stock around the country when it comes to winters. Think this news item on the radio this morning helps explain?

The city of Seattle refuses to use salt on its roads. The reason? It's bad for the environment.

They abide by the policy even though:

a. the state department of transportation uses salt across the state;
b. the salt can be processed through the sewage treatment centers;
c. the salty Puget Sound waters are right there as a natural receptacle.

Once or twice a year Seattle gets a major snowfall that requires salting. It's not Chicago where it's snowy and salted for six months. The amount is minimal, sufficient to assauge the concerns of even the staunchest greenies.

Unless they're in Seattle. In which case all bets are off.

Seattle's policy on plowing is, uh, also unique.

Their plows have rubber blades.

This is to minimize road damage.

But they don't actually scrape the ice. City directive is to compress the ice and snow to create driveability.

I am not making this up. The slick icy roads are by design.

There's more.

Seattle is quite hilly. The police prowlers are chained but cannot negotiate the slick slopes per policy. When they respond to calls, they park at the bottom of the hills and hike it.

'Tis the season to be thieving, fa la la la la la la la la, because Seattle has no policing, fa la la la la la la la la.

Where is public safety? Isn't that what King County taxpayers are paying for?
Oh well. That can be sacrificed but good lord! do not salt the roads.

Still not making this up.

Also: The city, with a population of more than half a million. has 27 plows, while nearby Portland, with half the population, has 56.

Every year Seattleites go wah wah wah, we're not prepared to explain its winter ineptness and citywide disasters.

The disaster isn't the weather, it's the brain power.

Just don't bother calling 911 emergency to report it. Unless you've got 50 minutes to spare. Double if you're on a hill.

I don't do New Year's resolutions.

That doesn't prevent me from taking pause to reflect on the year closing. A rendition of the highlights would sound trite and boring. It's been done to death. So done to death.

Guess what. I'm gonna do it anyhow!

You know how David Letterman (late-night TV talk-show host for you Aussies) has his Top 10 List of the silly and satiric, stupid and serious? I'm following suit (on the list, not hosting a TV show).

Presenting my Top 10 of 2007:

10. It's much, much harder to find a reasonable place to live in Tacoma than you'd think it would be in a town this size. It's either ghetto and gangland or the rich neighborhoods. Which leaves two choices: (a) get into drug-dealing, or simply track down the former tenant druggie ho and board with her; or (b) marry into wealth. Which would turn me into a white ho housewife, without the baggy pants hanging off the tush.

9. Drizzle and rain, and the occasional snow and ice, reveal again that drivers in Western Washington cannot drive! You'd think living in an area where it rains six months outta the year would cultivate a certain ... um, is skill too strong a word? Then how about attentiveness? Could you please tailgate just a little closer in the downpour going 70 mph to close up the whopping six inches separating us? Make sure to keep your headlights off in the zero visibility? And don't forget about yakking on cell phones and texting every second of your journey. No wonder my insurance doubled moving here. Idiots. P.S. - they're way worse approaching Seattle. Drivers in my area are fairly OK, nicer and noticeably more likely to let you in than in most places I've been, and that's a lot.

8. Stupidity earns high incomes. I've seen this over and over and nowhere was it more glaringly evident than at the warehouse. I really need to write/post a letter to that manager to get that monkey off my back. That's for another day, when I'm in a foul mood. I love havin' stuff to look forward to.

7. Seattle sucks. Since this is the year's Top 10, not Top 100 of How Seattle Sucks, tempting though it be, I'll provide a classic commonplace (I've since been told) example: I'm driving for paratransit. Go to Seattle to pick up a client at a hospital. Don't know the city at all. Never drove there. I pull to the curb to check a map. Within moments, a metering cop pulls up behind. Super hardass military macho type with the buzz cut. Points to the curbside sign. No parking after 4 p.m. It's 4:03. I hasten to move the (work) car while offering the contrite explanation that I'm working, don't know Seattle, am picking up a client. "I'm working too," Mr. Hardass Officer huffs, coldly tossing a ticket my way. I contest it in a letter to the judge. He lets me off.

6. They don't make things like they used to. My previous roommate provides the evidence by wearing the same blue terrycloth bathrobe day after day after day after day. All day long. In the apartment. Never leaving. No modern robe made in China could stand up to that kind of wear.

5. There is goodness in life. My employer. Amazing human beings. Their presence and working with, as opposed to for, them changes me and the direction of my life in ways too numerable to list. Plus my coworkers are tha' bomb. A hilarious and terrific bunch of goofs who are competent, skilled, have brains and they use 'em. Whoa!! It's official, I've landed on the other side of the universe far from all previous jobs. Still don't make much money but that's OK for now because the experience of being with these people is priceless. And it's helping heal mountains of crap and abuse.

4. Living on a noisy road suits me no better now than it did in the three rare occasions of the distant past, a superb track record for one with a lengthy list of residences. So unsettling, toxic, disharmonious to my nervous system and in terms of poor environmental factors second to not having space. Granted, it's better than what was facing me, homelessness and sleeping in my car (which was neither practical nor realistic), so I'm grateful this door, any door, opened. I'll always remember how dangerously and terrifyingly close I came to falling into the hole. Like being dirt poor, it's one of those things that stays in the soul.

3. Well, Patti, of course. Meeting her one on one, face to face, just us, in Portland at the Bite of Oregon festival.

2. My peeps. All readers of my blog, whether they go peep peep peep or not.

1. Peter.

(sorry, folks, that's all you'll get outta me.)

Overall it wasn't the grandest year on the books, there's plenty of room for improvement ahead, but it weren't bad, weren't bad at all.

I'd be remiss if I failed to note that, outside of Seattle, the probability of a bad year in the Pacific Northwest is low. One, the beer's nearly always tasty. And there'll always be water falling from the sky. If not now, then in the next 10 minutes.

Happy '08 to one and all!

Visions of sugarplums are dancing in the heads of children.

Except in Seattle. Their visions are of Santa’s reindeer drowning.

At the lighting of the Christmas tree -- holiday tree in politically-correct Seattle -- Mayor Nickels speaks to an audience.

He warns the kiddies in attendance that Santa’s northern home is melting because of global warming and their use of energy-sucking video games.

Mayor Nickels reads an open letter to Santa:

"Talk about thin ice! It sounds like you had one doozy of a summer up in the North Pole, and quite frankly I'm worried ...

"Some say that if we don't do something to cut greenhouse gas emissions soon, the North Pole might be ice free in summer as early as 2030.

"Reindeer fly, but can they swim, too?"

S'long sweet sugarplums and Saint Nick; hello reindeer struggling for their lives.

"I for one would rather not find out. That's why we’re launching Operation Save Santa.”

Helpers in hats hand out candy canes stickers reading “Save Santa” and compact fluorescent bulbs.  (Why worry about toxic mercury when facing the ravages of melting ice caps?)

Sounds to me like the only ones needing saving are the children -- from Mr. Grinch Mayor of Seattle himself.

Dear Seattle. Bite me.

There. I said it. Let’s move on.

Yesterday I had my first pick-up in Seattle. A very pregnant woman due in weeks at 4:30 p.m. in the dreadful commute.  Wouldn’t have been my choice, Seattle at that time. But I’m providing a service to patients in need. We work with their appointment times, not the hours of the most hellish commute in the state of Washington.

I allot 1-1/2 hours to get there, double the time when roads are clear, both for the heavy traffic and my unfamiliarity with the city. Along with my mapquested directions I’ve got a Seattle map so I’m covered.

I’ve been there only once on a ride-along during training. There are a dozen reasons I don’t live in Seattle; perhaps one day I’ll blog about how close I came to relocating to the area till Spirit intervened, directly, clearly, amazingly. I heeded its message. Disaster averted.

Anywho, I arrive at 4 o’clock, 30 minutes ahead of schedule (the benefit of going against the commute, though it’s still plenty heavy).

Cool. I can use the extra time to study the map for the return trip. Parking’s a bitch. Like San Francisco’s. There’s none or what little there is is paid and it's not cheap. Add that I’m driving an aged Caprice the size of an old Chinese tank requiring extra-wide space to maneuver or park. Along with its many flaws, the cooling system’s kaputt, which makes for pretty unpleasant rides for client and driver in this unseasonal heat.

Miraculously I find a spot just up from my client’s hospital. Climb out of the hot cab and study the map. I always find studying the map while not driving preferable for safety reasons. Others may not agree.

Not more than five minutes pass when a ticketing officer pulls up behind in his little cart. I respond that I’ll move immediately when he points to a sign reading No Parking 4-6 p.m. It’s now 4:05.

He’ll have none of that. He’s already got his citation pad and is scribbling down the license plate with cutting-edge focus. He’s a young Nazi ticketer with a razor haircut and expression that’s very strict, stern and unforgiving. I explain that it’s my first time driving in Seattle, I don’t know the city streets or parking rules, am working and reading the map in conjunction.

He couldn't care less. “I’m working too,” he replies, signing off the ticket with a sweeping hand, handing it over and heading to the next vehicle. He’s got the march down.

Welcome to Seattle.

I get into the car with some 20 minutes to spare and no place to park so for that time I circle the same few blocks, over and over. Until at 4:30 I spot the pregnant woman. Have her hop in and get the hell outta Seattle.

It takes 1-1/2 hours to travel the 30 miles to get her home. Poor mama-to-be miserable in the heat, stuck in traffic and experiencing early contractions. Good thing baby didn’t choose to come; we’d never have made it back to Seattle. Baby's birth certificate woulda read: Birthplace: An old Chinese tank. Somewhere's on I-5.