Now that the Weekly's official annual Best of Seattle list is out, I felt it was time to add the categories we missed. It was a grueling process, but I managed to select three real champions, those personal choices that affect the sparkling quality of my life here in the Emerald City above all others:
Best evidence that KCTS knows its audience better than any other television station
I once thought myself wonderfully wise, until I confronted the daily e-mails from fervent, incensed Channel 9 viewers who took me to task for continuing to suggest that KCTS is rapidly becoming a fetid sinkhole for onerous middlebrow "entertainment." My eyes have been opened; I'll never know why I treated Charlotte Church so carelessly. Now I'm simply glued. After a cheery viewing of Anne Murray's Songs of Grace, a smattering of the Lawrence Welk reunion live from Branson, Mo., and a sample of pledge drive host George Ray informing me that a documentary on the pope is actually far more honest when it's made with the church's complete approval, I feel I understand exactly what KCTS is up to. And I bless them.
Neighborhood restaurants with the most unusual definition of the word "service"
Please—is there any competition here? Anyone living on or visiting the hallowed Capitol Hill eateries quickly learns that "here to help you" in our quaint little district means "when I damn well feel like it" or "when my prescription kicks in." Nowhere else in Seattle can you experience so many people who so seriously deserve a medieval dosage of Prozac. You can't really blame them; everyone should spend a few months in food service to understand how truly awful it is to serve a homosexual his burrito. And, honestly, do any of us have the right to expect a salad within a half-hour? Young vegetarians and vegans tire easily, and the weight of so many sprouts is a daunting one. My heart goes out to them, though sometimes, in less compassionate moments, I will admit I've wished them a generous wait the next time they want to tattoo their nostrils or pierce their eyelids.
Most proudly stubborn crosswalk light
Sorry almost-winner Harvard and Pine (where the light often isn't even operating), but the begrudging signal on the north side of the Sixth and Seneca intersection triumphs over all would-be crosswalk expeditions. It's a fascinating chance for puzzled tourists to really stop and see a Seattle overpass; with an innovative eye on efficiency, there are entire periods here where no citizens—or cars, for that matter—are legally allowed to move across the street. You could pull up a couch here most mornings, meet and fall in love with a fellow pedestrian, conceive a child, carry it to term, and begin teaching it the meaning of a crossing signal before that defiant "Walk" sign even thinks of giving you passage. Thanks, Sixth and Seneca. See you next year!