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Nonfiction Observations Seattle

White Glove Treatment.

In addition to five-star accommodations and world-class spa appointments in Portland and Seattle, each [Lamborghini] owner and their guests will be treated to private meals along the Pacific Coastline and the Puget Sound. Expect white glove treatment at every encounter, and curated excursions exclusive to Giro and the region. – GIRO 2017 PNW

The first Lamborghini I saw pulling out of the driveway of the parking garage in downtown Seattle was either yellow or orange. Its engine rumbled for all to hear even though it was in low gear. I stopped walking when I reached the driveway, waiting for the sleek and shiny car to pull into the street.

A few moments passed and another Lamborghini pulled out of the parking garage into the driveway. This one, another bright color, didn’t even stop before it turned left into the street.

The pedestrian waiting on the other side of the driveway was dressed for work: Short-sleeved summer blouse, pencil skirt, dark flats, and bangles on her left wrist. She shifted her weight to her right hip and looked into the garage.

A third Lamborghini zoomed out of the parking garage and swerved left into the street. There were now three or four pedestrians on the other side of the driveway waiting to cross the entrance of the parking garage.

In the street were two women, probably no older than 25, who were wearing white polo shirts and denim shorts. With some anxiety they looked down the street, watching for oncoming traffic. They waved their hands at the garage, beckoning more cars to come forth. They ignored the pedestrians on the sidewalk.

The fourth Lamborghini had a mirrored surface. The morning sunlight gleamed off of its sides. The driver was an older man who was losing his hair. In the passenger seat was an older woman with bright yellow hair and sunglasses that covered half of her russet face. This mirrored car coasted out of the driveway without pausing.

“Oh, come on,” I muttered. The Woman Dressed for Work on the other side of the driveway rolled her eyes and heaved a sigh that was seen, not heard.

More Lamborghinis poured out of the parking garage, parting the Red Sea of pedestrians. The traffic light farther up the street was still red, though, so the parade of Lamborghinis was slowing to a halt in a single queue.

Yet another Lamborghini was approaching the exit of the parking garage. Empowered by annoyance and self-righteousness, I walked forward. Would the Lamborghini let me, a mere pedestrian, have the right of way?

The pedestrians on the other side of the driveway followed suit. The fancy car lurched to a halt as we foot commuters walked in front of it. We all heard the loud, idling engines of more Lamborghinis in the garage waiting for us to pass. Even though some pedestrians slowed their gait, everyone looked straight ahead.

Good manners go a long way. Status alone doesn’t earn white glove treatment and respect.