Why wouldn't I dislike marathons occupying, disrupting Seattle's streets regardless of purpose or cause? Sunday, during one such staged event, the main north-bound DT arterial, 4th Avenue, was closed off all the way to the Seattle Center, literally splitting the DT core into two, making the simple difficult.
Picking up the couple at King Street station bound for the Mayflower Hotel at Fourth & Olive, I instantly understood a detour was in order. Having done this more times than I have ever wanted, I knew that either 6th or 8th would do the trick. Also knowing that all traffic was being routed east onto Spring Street, it was obvious avoiding that morass was necessary, Seattle driver simpletons proceeding directly into the "jaws of death," or more prosaically, a hot and tedious and irritating "Manhatten-style" traffic jam. Who needs that on a record 93 degree F. Saturday? Not me, not that day, not ever.
My goal was to get them at the bottom of the hotel, on Fifth, allowing them a relatively easy haul of too much luggage up the short hill. And thankfully everything went as taxi formulated, getting them there from Sixth minus much fuss or trouble. Only cabby's know the minor miracles we produce daily, and this my friends was one of them, getting them there for just over nine dollars through the potentially insane. While having few expectations, I do wish for basic recognition of the readily apparent despite it being their first time in Seattle.
As they got out of 478, a nearly blind woman, white cane in hand, approached, needing a ride. Sure, I said, allowing her to enter when suddenly the less observant of the pair from Florida nearly knocked the woman over, thinking she had left something in the cab. She hadn't, plus also failing to apologize for her stupidity. She then offered me a ten for the $9.20 fare---"Is that okay?"---and in a rare response, I said, "No, it wasn't," adding that I had just achieved something special, which I had. She gave me twelve.
Who is blind? Who is awake? Or was her mind "just on vacation?" One can only hope, knowing that in America, paying attention is optional. Why understand what is going on around you when instead oblivion is better in any city or state, making it convenient upon your personal demise not noticing your surrounding temperature, heaven and hell the same even when Beelzebub polks you in the buttock with a pointy pitchfork. Will she exclaim "Ouch!" with a puzzled smile? My guess is yes. What do you think is her response?