My Community (one of them...)

Commuting to work is a community. I live in Everett and work at night at a hospital in Seattle. Every evening I climb in my car, stop by my favorite espresso stand to pick up a coffee, and begin my commute. My forty-five minute drive south is nothing unique. I'm surrounded by other motorists commuting as well. There is little interaction between all of us, really. There's very little camaraderie. In fact, while we all are technically part of a community of people who share a daily activity, there can actually be quite a bit of aggression at times between many of us. There is the occasional obscene gesture, although I don't see this too often, thank goodness. Tailgating is a frequent occurrence, though. Weaving in and out of lanes, trying to get home (or to work, in my case) a little faster is common also. These are the things that work against us as a group, make us weaker as a community. The hostility. The irritation. But wanting to just get home already is probably what holds us together too, I suppose. The desire to arrive at our destination, on time and in one piece. Necessity is what compels us to be a part of this community.

While face-to-face interaction is rare, we do have some things in common. We all have a desire for as little traffic as possible. We all hope there are no fender-benders or construction that will hold up our drive. I'm sure most of us would prefer a dry roadway, instead of the steady, fuzzy drizzle that characterizes this area nine months of the year. The radio is often our only company, and it probably brings a smile to most of our faces when we see that one commuter who is unabashed about singing aloud, bouncing their head and playing the air-drums on their steering wheel to whatever catchy tune they are listening to in order to pass the time.

My perspective of this community I'm a part of is a little different than others. I enjoy my commute. Tremendously. When I leave my home for work, I leave behind noise and people wanting things from me. When I arrive at work, again, there is chaos and a constant demand for my attention and help. But when I'm in my car, it's my time. I take my time getting to work; I'm never one of those lane-weaving motorists. I stay at a steady sixty miles per hour in the far right hand lane, savoring every mile. I relax, sip my latte and listen to the soothing sounds of NPR. It's lovely. I'm not sure many in this community of commuters that I am a part of feel this same way, however...