It's Raining Men.

It seems that an old warehouse district in Seattle got gentrified during the boom years of the '90s. What used to be warehouses are now chock full of tech companies and tech company employees. There's one minor catch, however: This particular warehouse neighborhood is right under a 155-foot tall bridge, complete with pedestrian walkways, which pretty much ensures a fairly steady precipitation of depressed folk onto the dot-commers below.

Thirty-nine people over the past decade have committed suicide off the 155-foot-high Aurora Bridge -- eight in 2006 alone -- and counselors are regularly brought in to help office workers deal with the shock of seeing the leap or the bloody aftermath.

At least one woman, Sarah Edwards, drives on the left side of the street near her office ever since a body landed on the hood of a co-worker's car.

Imagine, there you are, pulling into the parking lot at work, sipping on a double mocha half-caf latte when *KA-WHAM!* some busted Wall Street punter craters the hood of your Subaru right there in front of you. It'd be enough to put you slightly off your feed, no? In the most delightful twist of all, the bridge is a national historic landmark, and Seattleites don't just go mussing up the aesthetics of those with big-ass chain-link barriers or nets or whatever, at least without a decade of meetings, studies, votes, chanting, and incense.

So, hey, depressed? Feel like ending it all? Go to Seattle and go with style; pelt a yuppie, help keep a grief counselor employed. If you jump wayyy out, you might get that car swerving into the wrong lane.