340) This photo is a lie. A big fat lie. You’ve probably already spotted the problem. This photo is posted on February 5th, but there I am, supposedly trotting around downtown in shorts. True, there are many Seattleites who wear shorts year ’round, but I’m not one of them. So what’s up? Shortly after I took this photo in early September, I decided to save this box to be the final one in this project. After all, it’s at the 98101 post office, so could there be anything more central to the whole mailboxes-of-Seattle theme than this? So, I cast this photo aside and planned to reshoot it at the end of the project. Well, faithful readers know that a new box as been chosen to conclude the project! And since I no longer have to save this 98101 box for that occasion, I was able to resurrect this photo to present to you today. How’s that for a riveting story?

339) If it’s true that a good photograph tells a story, this this must be a GREAT photograph. Just look at what’s going on. See that No Parking sign? Well, guess where I’m parked. That’s right, I’m parked right about where the camera is, which is clearly in no-no land. To escape detection, I decided to hide behind the fancy garbage can, because if the police can’t see me, they can’t ticket me, right? But then, notice how the box is frantically dialing 911 to report me! What a snitch. You’ll be happy to know I got out of there unscathed and unticketed.

336) Whereas many are excited about the impending removal of the viaduct, this box is actually quite sad about it. For decades, the viaduct has been his constant companion, always there, always providing a muffled rumble of background noise. Once the viaduct is gone, the box will only have tourists to deal with, and well, that’s why he’s so sad.

335) “Hey David.”

“Yeah box?”

“Look up there.”

“Where?”

“See it?”

“What?”

“Chicken butt.”

Man, this box is really bad at telling jokes.

332) I was wondering why the mailbox and the green relay box were giggling so incessantly while I was posing for this picture. All I was trying to do was set up a dramatic shot with the downtown buildings in the background, but they seemed to know that I would end up with my tiny head perched on top of the box. I bet they’re still laughing about it.

319) I found myself downtown, dressed in full business attire with a Bluetooth earpiece stuck to my head, thinking I really fit in with the crowd. Apparently, however, I looked foolish because this mailbox wouldn’t let me stand any closer than this. If I tried to get any closer, he’d hiss and flap his mail door at me until I backed away. Personally, I think he’s just grumpy over having to stare at the weird library all day, every day.

311) You’ll notice that this mailbox is very, very nervous. Absolutely shaking in his boots, he is. Why? Because the peace and tranquility that he has known for decades is rapidly being shattered by the constant stomping and buzzing of new humans in the area. Look at the street corners — each one of them has a Now Leasing sign, luring new tenants into the new apartments buildings that have sprouted all around this guy. It’s a new world, one he’s not happy about.

299) Yesterday I posted a stunning example of public infrastructure that was obviously inspired by the humble mailbox. I thought it was the only such example in the city, but I was wrong! I had never noticed how the Convention Center street-arch-thing also takes its shape from this trusted public servant. Look at that majestic sweeping curve… it’s like being inside a giant mailbox skeleton.

297) It took me three attempts to find this box. Seriously, I had sought it out on two previous occasions, and failed to find it both times. My data told me it was on this block, but it erroneously said that it was on the other side of the street. So two other times, there I was, looking up and down the sidewalk spotting nothing, all the while amusing the hell out of this guy. He was hiding in plain sight the whole time.

286) The fog was just beginning to lift when I was visiting this box on the northern edge of downtown. As the sun pieced the misty veil, the box was moved to tears. And was then moved to begin writing poetry. That’s when I left.