Dear Uptight Seattleite,
Since moving here from Philadelphia last year, I’ve noticed that Seattle drivers don’t use their turn signals. Especially when they turn across a bike lane. Are Seattleites not required to take driving exams or otherwise exhibit common sense? Are their turn signals broken? Or should I have worked my way up to a higher plane of psychic enlightenment, on which those who grow up here already live? Please help a newbie!
Terrified Cyclist
Dear Cyclist,
There’s too much information. I was ruminating on Sting’s observation recently while spending time with some friends who have teenaged children. And something struck me. Ow! A lawn dart! Just kidding. It was an insight, and it didn’t hurt a bit.
Which reminds me, I recently had quite a rich day of Sunday wandering. I was struck by all kinds of things. It was a veritable meteor shower of mini-epiphanies. By the time I got home, my cranium was completely peppered with silvery fragments. (Judging by the far-off look in her eyes, Georgina was struck by a few things, too.) I hope to be able to release a few of these glimmers to you throughout the next few months. Please try to be patient, though. They must first be washed in the underground stream of the authentic self and made to shine out with the light of real truth.
Kidding again! I hope you don’t think I take myself that seriously. In fact, if you ever meet someone selling a package labeled “The Truth,” I recommend you get away, and fast. If that’s your only take-away this week, I’ll be happy.
But let’s get back to the thing about the teenagers by which I was struck. It’s the need these kids have to be online constantly. This seems a little sad to me. It’s as if they’ve lost their faith in simply being.
This isn’t restricted to kids, of course. The Internet sucks, in its unseemly way, on eyeballs of all ages. And I say this as someone who enjoys interacting with his Facebook friends and also happens to be the administrator of the group “Tweet, Terry, Tweet.” We’re trying to encourage Terry Gross to pay a little more attention to her Twitter account, which hasn’t been updated since March 11 at 9:13 a.m. Her Paramount appearance is only a couple of weeks away, and I’m seriously starting to worry that she’ll leave without sharing some spur-of-the-moment observations about Seattle. For one thing, I’d really like to know if she ends up going to the usual Wild Ginger or some out-of-the-way place in the ID.
Despite using the Web myself, I can’t help soberly reflecting on how unimaginably thicker the fog of data has grown in the nearly 30 years since Ghost in the Machine. And yet you argue, Cyclist, that there’s too little information? On top of tweets, blogs, and status updates, you also want to know when someone is going to turn?
Well, please realize that here in the Northwest, turning is not a commitment we take lightly. It is, after all, nothing less than a new stage in our driving journey. So we need to work our way into it. To crawl up to the intersection, sniff the milieu, and leisurely ponder whether, deep down in our authentic selves, we really want to turn.
Once we decide that, yes, signs currently point to turning as the appropriate course of action, we can proceed. But only with hesitation. Because we still want to keep our options open on the whole turning issue. I think you can see, Cyclist, that using our turn signals would interrupt the naturally contemplative rhythm of this process. If you can’t see, perhaps you should right-click on that notion for a menu of your other options.
In the interests of being thorough, however, I should also inform you of your right as a cyclist to scream at drivers. Pedestrians also have this right. I’m not a screamer myself, but I can appreciate a good display. One recent rainy night, I heard a bearded man scream “Stupid humans!” at traffic that wasn’t stopping for him.
The only thing that worried me was the way this guy said “humans” as though it were the worst slur he could think of. Because in spite of everything, I’m basically pro-human.
Have a question for the Uptight Seattleite? Send it to uptight@seattleweekly.com.
