Getting 1 million people to do a single thing is no easy task. Getting 1 million people to do an extremely inconvenient thing that disrupts an entire day of their lives is even harder. But that equation changes if 1 million people want to be part of something that happens only once every 10 to 20 years and they want to be part of a group of 1 million people. And that’s what happened with the Seahawks parade this week.
It didn’t matter what your political orientation was. Your color, age, heritage, or preferences. We were all the same. We were Seahawks fans. Proud to be Seahawks fans. Some people maybe just watched a game or two this year. Some people could tell you every statistic. But there was some kind of adrenaline rush for a huge percentage of the city to come out and celebrate with each other.
And let’s be honest, this is the same city that will avoid eye contact in an elevator like it’s a competitive sport. But put everyone in navy and action green and suddenly we’re high-fiving strangers on 3rd Avenue like we’ve known each other since kindergarten.
That’s the kind of thing that doesn’t get put into any kind of economic statistic when you’re evaluating a city. It’s impossible to measure if people were overall happier this week or if they continue to be happy through the month. But there were a few hours there where a giant aura of happiness was just levitating over an entire stretch of downtown Seattle.
It was like rush hour, except nobody was mad. A million people voluntarily recreating the worst traffic day of their lives and smiling about it. Only in Seattle could gridlock feel like a block party.
Will my four year old son remember any of it down the road? Probably not. But he will probably remember that he was there. Will that mean anything to him down the road? Who knows? Maybe in some small way he feels more a part of Seattle today than he did last week. Maybe his little brain looked at all the people and, even though he couldn’t understand why they were there, it was the first time he realized how many people lived around him.
And maybe for all of us adults it was a good reminder that we don’t have to argue with each other all the time. We can shove ourselves into a light rail car and stand cheek to cheek in very uncomfortable proximity and not be bothered, because we were all doing the same thing and we all knew it was going to be a pain in the ass to do it.
We packed ourselves into a light rail car so tightly that personal space became a historical concept. Normally that would be grounds for a passive aggressive sigh and a Yelp review. But this time it was fine. We all signed up for it.
And it was a special day for everybody who participated. It wasn’t the most spectacular parade, and you would have seen way more of it if you had stayed at home and watched it on TV. But sometimes you just need to do something a little biological to remember that life doesn’t have to be logical. Life can simply be about enjoying a giant moment and enjoying it with others.
Seattle doesn’t always agree on much. We debate housing, transit, schools, coffee temperature, you name it. But for a few hours, none of that mattered. We just stood there together, slightly cold, slightly uncomfortable, yelling in unison. And somehow that felt important.