…that I’m only ever two pints and a rebel song away from the DMV. I was in a strange mood, and I had a couple of Guinness in me, and I chose to actually respond on Twitter to some obnoxious redneck state senator who said Obamacare was worse than the Nazis, the Communists and terrorism. And what made me snap wasn’t the obvious garden variety Fox News ignorance for once…it was the dismissive reference to terrorism. Please, you fucking hillbilly, tell me all about how much worse Obamacare is than September 11, because as someone living in Arlington and working in DC on September 11 – and September 12 – let me offer a hearty FUCK. YOU.
The thing about DC that comes back to me lately is that I took the Metro to work, every day, except for a brief one-year interregnum where we were two to the car (and I hated it, sorry A, it’s a fact but you probably knew that already). On any given Wednesday morning, I would be packed on the Orange line between a homeless dude, a smoking-hot George Washington U co-ed, and a 2-star Air Force general in his leather jacket and class-As. There was a commonality there, everyone having to rub along, and it’s probably a big part of why I ran out of patience with transit earlier this year and started driving to work. Something I never thought I would be doing again if I had the option.
Because transit in this part of the world doesn’t rub along. The techies have opted out of it, and to add insult to injury routinely use MUNI bus stops for the private shuttles that run up and down 280…and ensure their passengers are spared contact with the rest of the world. And those that do use it tend to be profoundly solipsistic – never mind the northbound bikers who still use the Mountain View VTA light rail platform as their own personal bike boulevard, there’s a serious and sustained issue with people here not understanding that you have to let passengers off a transit vehicle before getting on. And it’s not just F-line tourists outside Pier 39. Transit, at its root, is about giving up a little of your own primacy and autonomy for the sake of the collective good and to make things work easier for everyone. It’s kind of the building block of society.
And that’s the thing: you need everyone. Somebody has to grill the carne asada at that Mission taqueria. Somebody has to troubleshoot that printer-copier’s connection to the network. Somebody has to haul off the compost and recyclables after the party, somebody has to drive the forklift to unload the pallets at the grocery store, and somebody has to drive that fire engine to put out the roaring blaze from the unattended bong left under the tree. Hardcore survivalist nut jobs arming themselves in the woods against the socialist zombie apocalypse still had to buy canned goods and 9mm ammo from somewhere; even if they’re doing hand reloads they still had to obtain the powder and the tools from someplace. How much more delusional are the sorts of techies who live at the corner of Ayn Rand and Asperger’s?
My theory is this: after the financial collapse of 2008, the finance sector was no longer the key to instant wealth: if you were the sort of person who would have wanted to go to Wall Street and get filthy rich in the 1980s, that became a much less attractive option after the global credit crunch. Instead, that sort of person came out of Harvard or Stanford with a grade-inflated degree and the necessary connections to go into high-tech. But unlike the last bubble, the goal isn’t the IPO. Building the next Netscape or the next Amazon or the next Microsoft was the plan in 1999. Now the plan is to sell out to Google or Facebook or Apple, cash the check, and move on to the next thing. And that, more than anything, is how the hackers and EECS guys and the like gave way to the current crop of hipster brogrammers. And it’s making this valley an ever more unpleasant place to be.
Because this place isn’t just some mental construct, some cloud of tech bubbles connected by wi-fi-enabled bus and self-driving car. This is a real part of the world. There are roads and schools and taquerias and used bookstores and Catholic parishes and Macy’s and In N Out and town high streets that don’t have an Apple Store or a craft cocktail bar. Places that were here before the bubble and will be here long after it bursts. Places where parents have children, look around, and can’t afford to buy a house anymore. Places where you’re looking at an hour in the car to get to a job that’s never going to provide a private bus to work. Places where the American dream really has been turned into a luxury good. Home ownership, children, financial stability – pick two. That’s life in the 21st century in what used to be the Valley of Heart’s Delight.