Stop leaving Seattle on Friday afternoon

The worst part of Seattle is the westbound left lane of the Denny Way Bridge over I-5. The worst time You have to be there at 5:15 on a summer Friday, slowly moving toward the highway on-ramp below. Dante, you missed a roundabout.

The reason why we try to leave the metropolis on Friday is obvious. Most of us hard workers only have two free days a week, so every minute of a weekend is precious. But then why do we spend so much time in the car?

My advice: don’t do it.

Traffic has always been a thorn in Seattle’s collective side, ever since tire ruts dug into the mud of the pre-asphalt downtown. But like frogs in a slow-boiling pot, we contented ourselves with complaining and bickering about congestion until 2020, when a global pandemic upended everything. Amid the pain and fear, we also saw, gasping for breath, what empty highways looked like. The idea that speed limits could be lowered, that expressways could be fastthat Tacoma is only a half hour away (pfft) has ingrained itself in our collective psyche.

But like much of the early 2020s, it was all an aberration. Traffic is back, beyond pre-pandemic levels in most cities. It’s almost at 2019 levels here, which isn’t saying much given how bad things are. On Tuesday, the The Seattle Times reported that we even added a peak hour at noon, a time that does not even diminish that of the afternoon. Local commuters can waste more than 50 hours a year sitting in traffic, and even more if they really think they can make it to the beach before sunset on Friday.

I receive temptation. I spend most of my weekends in the Washington wilderness and would rather spend two nights under the stars than one. But I’ve gotten into the habit of blocking off my Fridays for outings close to home, even though I could possibly sneak in a little early without hitting the PTO (don’t read that part, boss).

But the miserable times on Denny aren’t worth it, nor are the jerky starts and stops on the worst stretches of I-5 or I-90. The hours passing through Fife or Marysville are heartbreaking. And checking into an Airbnb or campsite long after dinner hours makes the weekend less fun, not more.

So I, the consummate weekend warrior and travel enthusiast who enjoys it, have taken to staying within walking distance on Fridays.

You know what hasn’t changed in 2020? All of Seattle’s outdoor dining bars and restaurants, renovated patios and sidewalk tables. Cute independent shops are still open into the early evening, and the Mariners play home games on many summer Fridays. Once I embraced Seattle Fridays, I remembered how much I loved this place.

And Saturday morning, the on-ramps look like they did in 2020, mostly empty—and without all the heartbreak of the early pandemic. I still take two-day trips, but they’re cheaper and, in some ways, better. The car is neatly packed, not hastily stuffed with random gear or luggage I thought I’d throw in between Friday meetings. I stop for coffee and pastries at roadside bakeries, and hotel bills are cut in half.

Sundays can be long, after dinner, when traffic is more dispersed since we don’t all clock in at the same time. Mondays aren’t so scary either, when you’re completely done with Friday’s workday before the weekend begins.

Paul Thiry, the architect who more or less invented Seattle’s look and personally designed what is now the Climate Pledge Arena, lamented our I-5 identity in the 1970s. “It was with the freeway, going right through the heart of the city, that Seattle started to take one of its wrong turns and lose its identity as a city,” he said.

More and more, I advise against this wrong turn. I’m not going to deal with traffic, so I’m rediscovering my identity here in Seattle. At least until Saturday.