Life An Open Letter to U.S. Bank
posted by November 28 at 11:42 AMon
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?
your sleepless neighbor