Morning Routine Date Friday, April 19, 2024 - 07:52 AM PST Topic Tales From the Ick! I leave my apartment at roughly 8:15am every morning. I wait at a bus stop 4 blocks away where a strange young man who just might be a genius sits and discusses the state of the world with himself. If I'm lucky I catch an express bus which zooms me the 25 or so blocks to work. If I'm not so lucky I hop on a local bus which stops at every block. It's never as simple as "step on the bus, pay, sit down." All sorts of mini-dramas unfold at each stop. I finally step off my bus between the needle exchange and the McDonalds where all the crack dealers hang out. My mornings have become so routine that I stopped noticing the city around me. So this morning, I took a look around... The alleys smell worse each year. Why can't we designate just ONE alley for bodily waste? I never noticed how the tourists avoid the block on 2nd avenue between Pike and Pine as if their flight attendant announced it as they descended "Welcome to Seattle everyone, watch out for the junkies on 2nd avenue, enjoy your trip." How else could they know? It's really not so bad. Today someone offered a shoeshine for 3 bucks. As I wade through the strung-out, dull-eyed bodies-sipping my water in the land of coffee trying to get the shoeshine guy off my back-I realized how exhausting the city can be. I stub my toe on the uneven pavement and half-trip my way up Pike street, past the rows of tourist shops and porn emporiums. Hot dog stands!! Why do we suddenly have hot dog stands on every third corner in the middle of downtown? It really isn't helping the stench. Polish sausage and urine. An outstretched arm with a baseball hat finds its way in front of my face. Jingle. Waiting for the walk signal, the sounds of someone repeating "Real change newspaper. Real change newspaper. Real change newspaper." I can't decide if I love this city, or if it's warping my mind. Is fear and loneliness mistaken for complacent apathy? Someone recently wrote an "I, Anonymous" piece in the Stranger calling the people of Seattle jellyfish. The American Dream…grow up, get a job, get married, have a kid or 5, withdraw from the social structure, hide inside yourself and make the journey to work everyday. No American Dream for me, thanks. I had cereal for breakfast. Because 8:15 stretches into 8:20 on most days, I find myself already motion sick as I ready myself for the 37-floor elevator ride to my office. This article comes from Shmeng http://www.shmeng.com/ The URL for this story is: http://www.shmeng.com/modules.php?op=modload&name=News&file=article&sid=95