SOON AFTER SETTLING in Seattle, nearly everyone acquires a version of the people-here-are-sooo-nice story. There’s the comic after-you-no-please-after-you traffic merge. And the fellow who held the elevator door when you were still 20 feet away. Then that time some lady offered you change for the meter.
Those who move to Seattle also have another kind of story. But you don’t broadcast this one. You keep it to yourself or whisper it to other transplants. It goes something like this:
You’re talking to a co-worker/someone at a party/fill in the blank. In any other town, this person looks like someone with whom you might be friends. Potential friend asks, “So what are you up to this weekend?”
“Oh, I don’t have any plans yet. I just moved to Seattle and don’t really know anybody . . .”
You try not to look desperate.
Friend-to-be smiles and, for a brief, shining moment you think to yourself: Finally, someone is going to ask me to do something. Invite me to a party. Happy hour. Brunch with the girls. It’ll be just like “Sex and the City.” She’ll be Charlotte; you’ll be Carrie!
You feel a chill coming on. Still smiling, Friend-Not-On-Your-Life politely excuses herself, “Well, have a nice weekend then.”
Ouch.
You’ve just experienced the infamous Seattle Freeze. It’s the flip side of Seattle Nice. Welcome to Seattle . . . Now please go away.
[Seattle is] the ideal seatmate on an airplane. We slide in, exchange a smile and a succinct pleasantry, then leave you be for the rest of the flight. Alaska Airlines should capitalize on this with ads that promise: “Uninterrupted service from Seattle — and we mean it.”
(These words stolen from the Seattle Times, specifically Julia Sommerfeld.)
[Pay whatever you can for FUTURE songs, or pay just $10 and get an O.G. cassette tape.]
Did this happen to you, Zac?
I’ll tell you what did happen to me. I DID listen to this song like 80 gazzilion times and I DID try to make love to it, only to realize that it’s a song, not a corporeal entity. Then I DID get pretty bummed out.