331) This is one smug box. After years and years of delays, the end of the Hwy 99 tunnel project is finally in sight, which means it won’t be that much longer until the viaduct in the background comes down. And when that happens, this box should have a pretty sweet view of the water. Hence the smugness… the box is under the impression that his personal property value will go way up. In reality, what’s more likely is that he’ll get ripped up and replaced with an artisanal boutique ketchup stand.
327) As we’ve learned over the past 327 days, mailboxes get a bit grumpy when they’re covered in graffiti. And can you blame them? Imagine how it would be if you were just standing there doing your job and someone came along and scribbled paint all over you. Now imagine your feet are bolted to the ground and you don’t have any arms to fight back with! But as much as the boxes dislike the graffiti, they’re also not too fond of mediocre, incomplete attempts to remove it. Oh sure, they appreciate the effort, but when it results in a lot of smeared paint, well, boxes like this one tend to remain a bit grumpy.
313) Mailboxes are very dutiful civil servants, so it shouldn’t be too surprising to learn that many of them have a military background. Take this fine double-wide, for example. He likes to start every day in perfect formation, and he has even successfully recruited a couple of friends to join him. The thing is, he keeps this up the full day, because this is one box that doesn’t know the meaning of “at ease!”
307) This photo is a tribute to the survivors. In the foreground, of course, is this dedicated public servant that has been a key component of mail distribution for decades. In the far background, we have the Crocodile, an amazingly storied music venue that has avoided being shut down or torn down, also for decades. Between these two, we sense an invisible, but individual bond of respect.
304) It’s no secret that much of downtown Seattle has changed in the past decade. This box at 9th and Lenora has certainly witnessed much of this, as new building have risen one after the other, creating an unfamiliar cityscape. So… why am I standing so far away from the box? Because this particular box is a delusional blowhard who will talk your ear off with its less-than-accurate retelling of the changing scenery. I stopped listening when he was going on about the flowing lava fields trapping the early prairie (prairie?!) settlers on the edge of the iceberg where Amazon built their first office.
294) This morning I visited this fine box positioned outside of the oh-so-trendy Dahlia Lounge. Day in and day out, this box has to deal with a large neon chef dangling a flopping fish above his head. If that weren’t enough, he listens to a constant stream of people talking about Dahlia’s damned coconut cream pie, yet no one has ever offered him a slice.
290) Mailboxes can get rather, well… confused. Take this one, for example. When I asked how things are going, he proceeded to tell me that he was totally tripping. What? Yeah, he thinks someone dosed a letter with some LSD, because he’s been seeing wild colors ever since. I thought about telling him that no, that’s just the materials they used in the building across the street, but I knew he wouldn’t believe me. He’s still tripping.
289) I’ve come to the conclusion that mailboxes love boats. Or maybe they love water views. Whichever it is, all I know is that mailboxes that are near any of these tend to be the happiest mailboxes around. Take this fine double-wide. Sure, he’d much rather be on the west side of Alaskan Way where 99% of the pedestrian traffic is located, but from here he can still see the tall masts at the marina, and that keeps him perfectly content.
281) Holy smokes, we’re making some serious art here, people. Just look at everything going on in this photos. The doomed Highway 99 viaduct lurks in the background, reminding us all of our eventual demise. The glass-walled builidings rise to the sky, symbolizing our dreams and aspirations. The mailbox stands front and center, tying us to those near and far through its vast network. All the while the orange cones stress caution. Then there’s me. I don’t represent anything.
277) This is one of the happiest mailboxes in Seattle. I mean, just look at all it has around it. A green rely box hanging out next door, fresh ocean spray coming off the Sound, and a steady stream of pedestrians coming out of the sculpture park, all giddy from their art walk. Yes, this is one happy box, alright.