Somebody Else Can Drive

I remember walking down the hallway in Jones Hall at school and thinking: "that could be a fun thing to blog about," but it has taken me a second to remember what that fun thing was. I think I twittered it, but now I can blog about it so that you, whoever you may be that still reads this sparsely updated blog, may be entertained, informed, and generally edified.

There is something here in WA called "The Pass". I heard about it here, there, and everywhere. 'Oh, you have to go over the Pass.' 'Oh, wouldn't you have to drive through the Pass?' 'that was a great Pass!' oh wait...uhhh...

Eventually I caught on: all true Washingtonians talk about the Pass. So I did what any good acclimater would do: I started talking about the Pass. 'Isn't that over the Pass?' 'Don't you want to avoid the Pass?' 'Please Pass the salad dressing.' I didn't really know what it was...until tonight. I asked about it, because I might be going somewhere next week, and 'the Pass' divides me and that somewhere.

It's snowy. It's cold. It's wet. It's wind-y. There are cliffs on the two sides. The term "the Pass" is actually a misnomer, because there are multiple passes, some of which are better kept than others. There are mountains dividing Eastern and Western Washington, so coming from Tacoma (Western WA, next to the water) you have to drive through the snowy mountains to get to the desert of Eastern Washington. It's somewhat intimidating, and even though Tacoma won't have snow on Thanksgiving, the big P probably will.

Whatever, I think Sasquatch might be hiding there.