A local free newspaper has a column called “Uptight Seattleite“.. It’s supposed to be a parody of the overly conscious people here in the Northwest. However, I don’t find it funny, I find it SPOT ON… Guess I’m one of those Uptight Seattleites..

Dear Uptight Seattleite,
What’s with that creepy way people on Seattle streets look at but don’t really see one another? Where I hail from (hint: It’s the real “most liberal city in America”), people make eye contact, say hello, and smile. It doesn’t matter if they’re strangers or neighbors.
In Seattle, it seems like people passing in the street give the appearance of making eye contact, but never really look at one another long enough to establish anything resembling acknowledgement or communication. They glance furtively, then avert their eyes to avoid interaction, or mime a vacant smile while staring blankly ahead. WTFU with that? It’s pathetic and offensive as hell.
Not A Zombie
Dear Not,
Gosh, with your attitude, I’m really surprised you don’t have more positive interactions! No, but seriously, I’m a bit puzzled by your question. Seattle is a very friendly city, unless by “friendly” you mean the kind of superficial friendliness common in one of the West Coast states to the south of us (hint: It’s not Oregon). Like, “Hi, what’s your name? My name’s Chad! Let’s be best friends forever! Let’s swap wives!”
That’s not us, “bro.” The Northwest is characterized by its soulful reticence. Those people who avert their eyes on the street are not disrespecting you. They are granting you space. Space under our tranquil gray skies to be yourself, to be at peace, to just be. The suppressed half-smile is the emblem of the personal air space that has been granted to you, no matter how unappreciative you may be. “You’ve got your own thing going,” says the half-smile of the Northwest, “and so do I. Proceed as you will through life’s journey. Let’s not violate the subtlety of our understanding by crassly speaking out loud.”
Another:
Dear Uptight Seattleite,
I was leaving the Essential Bakery in Madison Valley a while back with two young children in tow when a man followed me out the door to point out, accusingly, that we were expected to bus our own tables inside. I had not done so but was taken aback by his pursuit. While I admit I transgressed, is it reasonable to police the busing behaviors of others?
Busted
Dear Busted,
Please help me understand. I assume there was some kind of emergency. Maybe one of your children, or both, were bleeding from their necks? In such a situation, yes, of course, it might well be understandable that you wouldn’t do a full clearing of your table (though you could have perhaps at least thrown away your trash).
Or was there some other reason that you mentioned the presence of your children? I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that you didn’t expect that the cafe, or society as a whole, would accord you some sort of special treatment because you made the choice to reproduce.
Let’s back up a moment and imagine this situation from the man’s perspective. He’s quietly going about his business—drinking his coffee, reading his paper, and watching you carefully from an adjoining table. Sure, he thinks, that woman may have children, but that doesn’t necessarily mean she’s insensitive about the larger footprint she therefore makes on the Earth. I’m sure she will, if anything, be even more diligent about her responsibilities. She certainly wouldn’t expect minimum-wage workers to clean up after her. Or so he thinks.
And then he sees you get up and leave your napkins, cups, and maybe a diaper or two all over the table. As if the words “please bus your own table” were not carefully printed in sun-faded marker and affixed with cellophane tape above the cream station. He could have simply shaken his head sadly and gone back to his soy latte. But no, he chose to take advantage of the teaching moment that was presented to him. Just as he took the higher path, I encourage you, too, to enlarge your view of the matter. It’s not every day that we are afforded such an opportunity to reflect productively upon our actions.