A Room with a View
Embarrassingly, I chose this snazzy title, clueless about the plot of the 1908 novel by E. M. Forster and the subsequent award-winning English romance film that portrayed it. But Wikipedia quickly rectified my ignorance and confirmed my choice. Where Lucy Honeychurch was looking for a room with a view, my wife and I already have it. In Forster’s novel, Lucy wants to see the Arno River in Tuscany, Italy, which seems perfectly appropriate for a romantic story. Although less romantic, our view, overlooking the corner of 11th Street and Dakota Avenue in downtown Sioux Falls, is even more fascinating. We can see well from our third-floor condo, yet we’re close enough to accommodate our aging eyes.
A slight disadvantage of the ringside seat in downtown Sioux Falls is the din that comes with it. When we first arrived here last August, fresh from the quiet backwoods of North Idaho, an entirely new level of noise assaulted us. Oddly, the most disturbing sound was the beeping of the crosswalk directly below our condo. That sound helps the blind find their way safely across the street. It’s a worthy cause, but the 24-hour beep, beep, beeping has the same psychological effect as the drip, drip, dripping of a leaky faucet. When I commiserated with the downstairs neighbors, they told me that I should have heard it before they got the city to reduce the volume. Then they assured me that it wouldn’t be long before I wouldn’t even notice it. Amazingly they were right; I now need to think to hear it. I can safely take all that noise-cancellation gear off my Amazon wish list because of the inflation-busting power of the human brain.
We see a great variety of things from our room with a view. For instance, one day, a street preacher used our corner for his pulpit. Pedestrians moved by him quickly, obviously avoiding contact and unintentionally encouraging the evangelist to increase his volume. As the first hour of the sermon stretched into a second, I began to reflect that there are several more effective evangelistic methods than street preaching. As we approached the third hour, I decided that any other form of Christian outreach was superior. As the echoes of his tirade finally died, it was clear that he went home feeling self-righteous. However, he would have been metaphysically better off ordering some indulgences from Amazon, where I think Tetzel just opened up a new online store.
As we’ve adjusted to the volume downtown, we genuinely enjoy the 20 large windows that make glass the dominant material in the exterior walls of our condo. Not only do we have a view, but we have a glorious view even though not everything we see is magnificent. Our corner generates more than its fair share of automobile accidents. We have rushed to the windows several times when we hear that characteristic thump-crunch that cars make when they run into each other. Fortunately, the slower speeds downtown cut down on injury, but emotions sometimes run high. I have been amazed to see Sioux Falls police teleport directly to accident locations. Honestly, I can barely get to the window before they show up. And it’s a good thing. At an accident last week, it took three officers and a set of handcuffs to dissuade an angry driver from publically venting her wrath. The open bottle of booze that another officer pulled from the driver’s side of her vehicle explained the emotional display and the accident itself. You can’t help but feel sorry for the victims and the ongoing disruption of life caused by those fender-benders. We have seriously conflicted feelings about seeing it as reality entertainment, but I don’t think we’ll stop watching.
Another fascinating spectacle frequently available is the art of big rig driving. Worthy of being a pro-sport, truckers require incredible acuity and finesse. From our window, we have box seats on the super bowl of semi-tractor trailer handling. Kitty-corner across the street from us, the Argus Leader building is host to the national championship of backing huge rigs into tiny openings. The play starts with the semi pulling across and then stopping in the middle of Dakota Avenue. Playing the odds on vehicle stoppage has been tempting, but we have contented ourselves with fantasy team competition so far. After parking in the street for the requisite amount of time, the trucker lines up the vehicle like a professional golfer getting ready to putt. Then the driver backs ponderously, inch by inch, into a miniature overhead door in the side of the building. Each time I swear it will never fit, but they do time and again, sliding inside like a sausage into its skin. So far, the American supply chain has consistently snatched victory from the agony of defeat.
Unlike metropolitan cities with infamously dangerous downtowns, Sioux Falls has worked hard to stimulate a safe downtown culture with lots of festivals, lovely dining, elite shopping experiences, and attractive nightlife. It truly is a splendid place to live. We can walk to exquisite restaurants and enjoy the pre-eight p.m. nightlife regularly. But for some reason, many young people, and for us old codgers that means nearly everyone else, flood into downtown Sioux Falls for a good time beginning at 8:00 p.m. We find staying up to watch the nightlife a challenge. But leave it to the ever-thoughtful downtown revelers, who kindly help us remember, in the wee hours, how fun good times in our part of Sioux Falls can be.
Yesterday our third-story vista shifted dramatically to winter when the first significant snowstorm appeared downtown. We had anticipated the gorgeous fat falling flakes like an It’s a Wonderful Life scene. However, we had not considered the exciting traffic patterns caused by the slick streets and the steep grade on 11th Street. It’s a little shameful to admit that we sat snug in the warmth of our lovely condo, watching the misery of people trying to get up the icy roadway. The situation was first called to our attention by the whining buzz of tires spinning on the tractionless pavement. A rush to our window revealed a massive tractor-trailer literally “parked” in the left lane of 11th street in front of the old Carnegie library while its tires spun futilely for all they were worth. Next, a van barely made it through the light across Dakota Avenue, only to spin out on the steeper stretch leading up to Minnesota Avenue. An endless stream of cars with slightly better traction slid and skidded in and out around them. The scene only needed a symphony orchestra blasting the Nutcracker suite to complete the performance. Fortunately, before bedtime, a small cadre of tow trucks pirouetted in from stage-left to clean up the mess.
Well, tonight is Friday night, when we almost always go out to sample the late afternoon nightlife in town at some swanky and economical buffet. However, I’m pretending there is a question about whether someone plowed out the alley from our underground garage. The joy of driving on a driveway I did not have to shovel might be too much for me. So I guess we’ll be dining in and enjoying our room with a view. Think of the money we’ll save on dinner and cable TV bills.