Life An Open Letter to U.S. Bank
posted by on November 28 at 11:42 AM
Dear U.S. Bank at 135 Broadway E.,
Could you please turn out your goddamn light? I realize you are in new and surely expensive digs there at Broadway and E. Olive Way, one of the busiest corners on Capitol Hill, and your bright, bright sign goes a long way toward advertising your fine banking services to the people of the U.S., but who exactly are you hoping to reach with your lighted brightness at 3 am? Those junkies sleeping under the Rite Aid sign? Wailing their junkie opera at all hours? I’m guessing they’re not your intended market for home equity loans and financial consulting.
That Rite Aid sign, with its imitation-Deco marquee, is a lot more impressive—a lot more deserving of being lit up all night—than your six chunky san-seriff characters, and yet Rite Aid turns off its sign sometime between 10 and 11 every night. Say what you will about Rite Aid, they’re saving energy. And they are sparing the people in their living rooms in the apartments across the street the feeling that they live on a brightly lit football field.
I’m “pro-density,” as the kids say, and I’d like to stay pro-density, but you’re really, really making that difficult for me, U.S. Bank. I happen to live in that apartment building across the street, and the magic flourescent whiteness of your unblinking sign penetrates my blinds even when they’re shut tight. How does that happen? Is that nuclear power you’re using? Am I sleeping in a bath of radiation?
Be a pal, would you? Be like the good people of Rite Aid, who outright refuse to stock club soda but at least have the decency to let their neighbors sleep without having to wear those airplane face masks?
signed,
your sleepless neighbor
I don't think US Bank reads the SLOG. I suggest you go over to the bank and demand to see the manager. It's cold, so don't forget to ware a ski mask.
Let us know how that works out.
Slingshots are only a few bucks at Fred Meyer. Make sure you're not leaning out or you'll be seen.
That new building is just... blech. I'm trying to decide whether to call it "the Black Hole" or "the Bruise."
"Eyes on the street": that's you.
"Eyes on the street": that's you.
The bright light complements the prison architecture. There's enough steel around the clock to support a machine gun.
What is a bank after all, but a prison for your money?
Seems like there should be some sort of complaint procedure for this through the City.
The light keeps my concentration away from the god awful building its attached too. And that is one UGLY building, so it requires a sign of signifigant watt-age. I vote for keeping the sign on.
I assume that the light and playlist are to discourage people from encamping before the warm glow of the ATMs. Probably best to apply aluminum foil to the windows and avoid the blight altogether.
On the ground floor of my building (NE 65th St and Ravenna Blvd. near Green Lake) there is a real estate office with a television in the window facing the street. The television plays a loop of footage of a guy walking through near by neighborhoods. The television is never off. Who is going to see it at 3:00am on a Tuesday morning and then decide to choose that office to view house listings?
What is the deal with buildings leaving their lights on all night? I remember a few years back when the west coast was having a power crisis and you could see downtown office buildings blazing away all night. Sure, I understand having some security lights and all, but WTF?
ah typical seattle passive-aggressiveness at its' finest: whining about something on the internet. Next time your car breaks down send an email to AAA and see how far that takes you.
moral of this post: pick up a fucking phone.
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