Reason 228

Pedestrian politeness. Since Seattleites only see the sun two months out of the year, most of us try to get outside and soak up all that vitamin D as often as possible. People who live around here are nuts for any sport that gets them out of the house; luckily the city planners were aware of this and created miles and miles of walking trails around the area. One such trail is just a few blocks from my house and is particularly lovely because it follows the meandering path of a river on one side and, um, a Boeing plant on the other. Since I had consumed two bites too many of my chicken tikka masala and garlic naan at dinner tonight, I decided a casual walk along the Cedar River was precisely what I needed to aid digestion (and maybe even make room in my tummy for dessert - this girl has priorities). Earbuds in place, I practically skipped down the stairs and out the door into the early evening sun, eager to move to the smooth sounds of Christopher Cross. After a mere two blocks, however, my mood soured as I was reminded why the treadmill in my building's tiny gym is more appealing than a walk that requires me to maneuver around clueless couples with their dogs who take up the entire width of the trail, inhale fumes from overflowing garbage cans, and dodge kids on bikes who are more interested in reading their new text message than the safety of some old lady coming toward them from the opposite direction. Perhaps I should just be grateful those kids can even read text messages since their intelligence level is clearly questionable. Of course, I was the model pedestrian, staying to the right to avoid oncoming traffic and kamakazi bicyclists; making brief eye contact with other walkers as they passed; and keeping my mouth shut when I desperately wanted to scream "Get out of the way, you idiot!" My mother did, afterall, raise me to be a lady. As my friend, Jason, you will never have to fret about my trail etiquette. You can count on me to maintain a reasonable pace (which really translates into a modified jog since I have such long legs, but I'm confident you can handle the speed), smile politely at the inbred morons walking by who blatantly ignore posted signs about trail expectations, and even put together a rockin' playlist on your iPod if you decide you need to give your brain some alone time. I know for me it's pretty hard to pay attention to my companion's ramblings when the soulful sounds of John Denver are so much more inspiring. Why yes, sunshine on my shoulders does make me happy. Rude walkers, however, make me want to cry.