First, a disclaimer. I'm proud to drive in Seattle's transit system. Compared to other systems, it rules. There are times, though, when it completely falls apart, like today's fun with snow. Mind you, this wasn't a huge blizzard dumping multiple feet in a matter of hours like those in the midwest and northeast experience. Not even close. We got maybe a couple of inches, and only in the outlying areas. Why things deteriorated so quickly, so completely (in my not-so-humble opinion) can be traced to two prevalent problems: Hills and Coordination.

Imagine driving a bus up or down this. . . .( Yep. We gots hills, lotsa hills. )We can't do anything about the hills, not like
we used to! Which leads me to the other thing that goes seriously wrong in inclement weather or majorly bad traffic days: Disaster response.
( What do we drivers do when things get FUBAR? We call for help. )One day I'll present my thoughts on what can be done to make a more robust system. I do have such thoughts, but realize the changes necessary to develop such a system will likely never be enacted. All transit agencies are facing a double-whammy: Fuel prices at record highs
with no chance of falling, an aging workforce and record ridership. These situations command the attentions of policy wonks and technocrats in ways far more compelling than minor interruptions of service caused by snow.
Yes, I said
minor interruptions. Though these snow days do suck so, let's all remember that they happen but seven or eight days
per year. Snow is not a pestilence descending to permanently punish a wayward and sinful populace. The snow falls, rather, like a gift, freeing people from the shackles a scheduled life presents. Yes, you were late for work. Were you fired? Probably not, since
no one can get to work on-time in Seattle when it snows. So pour yourself a hot toddy or mulled wine and call in. Tell the boss you're snowed in. The likelihood of everyone else at the office doing the same? Pretty good, really.
If you can't just bag a day at work for proper work like building snow angels and castles, the best you can do is dress warmly, carry an emergency lunch and a heaping attitude of "Damn, this stuff is pretty."