Sitting in Traffic

Most mornings I, along with most of the Eastside, sit in some sort of traffic somewhere along the interstates and byways that lead to paycheck land. Yes, I get frustrated just like everyone else, but there's one thing I am passionately devoted to - that's obeying both the official and "unofficial" traffic rules.

My traffic clog happens along 202 as it merges with E. Lake Sammamish Pkwy and 520, where things slow down to a crawl. Most folks dutifully start lining up for the 520 ramp at that triple junction by the Shell station and Les Schwab, and the backup is typically from a quarter to third of a mile. The line moves, but I guess not fast enough for some. There's a certain breed of driver that will knowingly and intentionally swerve out into the less congested lane that is intended to allow folks to continue on 202, only to cut back into the 520 access lane up ahead. I loathe these people - the "cutter inners."

I see this play out every morning and surprisingly there's hardly ever any honking, cursing, finger waving or bickering. I'm thankful that most folks still line up dutifully, and either ignore the "cutter inners" or silently curse them like I do.

Now I know in the grand measure of good and evil, "cutter inners" are barely north of bad tippers, but here's how I see it. There's no shortage of places in this world where people are mean and obnoxious in the way they deal with others. Where rampant competitiveness, illusions of entitlement, and inattention to the common good foster stress and strife. I came from such a place, and I am fortunate enough to be able to choose to live here. So I'll do everything I can to pay homage to the quality of life here. The price of doing less is just too darn high.