I <3 Seattle: An Urbanites Dream

Coming over the I-90 Bridge from the north is one of those small, simple pleasures I take after a hard day of writing with my fellow authors up in Everett. You see, right before the bridge, traffic tends to slow down while people decide whether to take the Express lanes or not. I'm unperturbed, myself, because as the bridge's incline sharpens and traffic comes to its peak, one must only look slightly to their right to see the most gorgeous city on the planet: Seattle.

While living on the East Coast, I heard those New Englanders down my city because "the only thing special about that skyline is the Space Needle". Now, I'm not a quiet person; unfortunately, the crew here at ActiveRain gets to hear me speak my mind when there's something on it (Sorry, guys!), and it's a well-known fact that even during my interview, I told them that I don't mince words. So I told those New Englanders what I really thought about their opinions: You've obviously never been to Seattle.

The Space Needle is Seattle. It's part of our skyline. In fact, I'm not the only one who's miffed about the fact that Las Vegas tried to replicate it! (Fie, Las Vegas, fie!) Bottom line, though? The Space Needle is not the only thing to look at. No. If you come over the I-90 bridge in the early or the very late hours, watch how many colors we have in the sunrise and sunset. Those clouds that pour rain on us turn a brilliant menagerie of gorgeous, eye-catching shades, and on a clear day...on a clear day, there's sky forever, colors forever, and with the buildings standing tall and proud against it, the city is ever-quiet as you enjoy the painting before you.

Walking around downtown, I often find myself walking around slow walkers with their necks craned back so that they can see this or that. On eye-level, Seattle looks like a small-town city with some very big hills and sure, there's some water somewhere. It's very quaint, with venues and restaurants everywhere, a huge, glass-encased library, and tons of cute little corner stores. These neck-craners, the ones my sister and I lovingly refer to as 'tourists', tend to get caught up in the overhead structures of skyscrapers, epic construction sites, and the immense, immaculate beauty found in glass, steel, and concrete.

My Seattle's walkability, quiet cityscape, and awe-inspiring natural -- and sometimes unnatural -- beauty are just a few reminders of why people flock from all over the country to live here. My Seattle is a burbling spring of human activity, a quiet, metal forest in the world of man, and has a funky, technicolor skyline to trump all of those snobby, nose-in-the-air, East-Coast skylines.

Personally, I think they're just jealous of our Space Needle. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.