Every Goddamn morning, it's the same, sad story. I walk down to the boat, grab my coffee, and join a couple thousand Sharpies and ShitFuckers, all of us trudging down the murder tube and onto the ferry. I secure a seat in the front sun deck, open my book and start in on my coffee. Just as I start to lose myself in the book, I'm pulled back to reality by an amplified woman's voice, saying, "welcome aboard, may I interrupt your morning by prattling on at great volume about some specious bullshit?"
The woman's voice chirps on and on, telling me where to find lifejackets and what to do if we're all about to slip into the briny deep. She ends with a little bit of passive aggressive nastiness about where people can smoke. Then she says thank you and then she finally shuts the hell up.
I know it's been years now that the ferry system has been engaging in this aural terrorism. However, it's only been recently I've been afforded the opportunity of being subjected to it day in and day out. Every day, as I listen to that harpie yap about ship's whistles, my thoughts turn to what this recorded frippery says about society.
It doesn't say anything good. Rather, it suggests our lives are framed by the lawsuit -- be it fear of a potential lawsut, fallout from a previous lawsuit or mitigation of a current lawsuit. Where we can go, what we can do and who we can do it with are all dictated by a lawsuit, past, present or hypothetical.
Now if a ferry ever sinks, it's going to be a world class clusterfuck. Pampered little bastards and bitches will be running about, screaming and clawing each other's eyes out for a seat on a raft. Some folks will try to drive their SUVs off the car deck, in the mistaken belief they really are
all
-terrain vehicles. There'll be fire, smoke, despair, raised voices, and blood in the scuppers.
In advance of that aquatic terrordome, the ferry system keeps running that Goddamn recorded announcement, telling us where to find life jackets, and where we can smoke. That way, as the Coast Guard is hoovering up the dead out of the sunken hulk of the Yakima, the ferry administration can say, 'we don't know why things went so wrong. We gave clear directions about what to do in an emergency. At least they weren't smoking.' Thus, lawsuits attempting to recover the lost future earnings of daddy the dead stock broker and mommy the deceased systems analyst are nipped in the bud. The ferry system saves itself from huge potential payouts by blasting a recorded announcement at every passenger, every day -- twice a day in the case of us commuters.
This kind of thinking is by no means unique to the ferry system. The cash machine I use has some braille printing on it. Above that braille, in regular, you-can't-see-it-if-you're-blind writing it says, "the following braille instructions are provided for our non-sighted customers." Who is that message intended for? At the end of the day, it's meant to be read by a lawyer, in a lawsuit.
Likewise, every Starbucks cup says, "caution, the beverage you're about to enjoy is extremely hot." It might as well say, "hello, lawyer considering sueing Starbucks - you can kiss our sweet, collective ass, as we've already warned grandma the coffee was hot." Never mind the fact they use low temprature water in their americanos. Never mind the fact that telling me I'm about to enjoy a Starbucks beverage is cheeky presumption of the highest order. The message on the Starbucks cup is written by a lawyer, for another lawyer.
Ever read the manual that comes with a new gun? Do so, and you'll come away with the distinct impression the manufacturer would really be much happier if you'd just lock the damn thing up and never ever look at it again, let alone shoot it.
Likewise, have you ever seen how many warning labels there are on a new ladder? Look at them, and you'll see a history of ladder-based lawsuits. Caution, ladder must be braced securely! Danger, ladder does not float! Warning, do not stand on top rung of ladder and dance! Aviso! Do not place ladder at angle greater than 90 degrees! Note, ladder is not a substitute for college education! It's a Goddamn miracle ladders are still sold at all, considering how dangerous they apparently are.
So what's the result of all these warning labels? One thing we're not is any safer. Drunk contractors still fall off ladders in the same numbers. The same people still pick up an empty gun, point it at their heads, and squeeze the trigger. Plenty of octagenarians still burn their pursed lips on coffee. All these labels and announcements and cautionary notes really do is provide employment for lawyers. That's good, in that it keeps these lawyers from stealing your tires in the middle of the night. But it's bad in that it's slowly but surely turning us into a nation of infantile morons.
I've nearly killed myself on many occasions, doing stupid shit. Likewise, I've escaped serious injury by a fraction of an inch, again doing stupid shit. Sometimes, sadly, I haven't escaped the consequences of my stupid shit. But, in high school, when I ran and leapt off the stairs at the end of my friend's hallway, and struck the ceiling of the lower floor with my forehead, as I tumbled to the ground I recognized that I was the dummy. I nursed my concussion and felt the tug of the needle and thread as the sawbones sewed up my head. But, I didn't plan a campaign to put warning labels on stairs, or foam padding on ceilings. Instead, I spent my time thinking, 'well, I feel like I've learned something today.'
And so I say, let us all figure out how ladders work on our own. Let us all learn in our own way that hot coffee is hot. Let those of who survive figure out that an empty gun isn't. Leave to the blind the mystery of their bumps. And let us all worry about what to do if the ferry sinks when and if it actually sinks. And leave me to enjoy my commute, and my book, and my coffee, in sweet, blessed silence.
