State of Bliss: A Shout-Out to Maine

I recently returned from a well-timed trip to Maine. "Well-timed" because New York City in the summertime isn't always the best place to be when you're…sensitive, like I am. This is the time of year when I have to contend with hordes of smelly foreign tourists who stop dead in their tracks on the sidewalk in front of such exotic wonders as the Hershey's Store and the Olive Garden. (Please tell me why you would come to New York City, a food mecca, and go to the Olive Garden. Think outside the factory-frozen box, people!) I really enjoy walking around the city, but because of the crowds here during the warm months, I always run the risk of losing it and saying or doing something that could get me into trouble. So there was no better time like the present (last week, to be exact) to get the H-E-double-L out of here and escape to a cooler clime with more outdoor square footage per capita. Maine.

Immediately upon exiting the plane door did I realize what a fine decision I'd made. The air was crisp and moist and smelled of pine. So much more preferable to the foul, stagnant odor of piss and hot dogs. As the week progressed, I realized how different I felt: I was calm, happy…and nice! I had no desire to broadcast any social rules because I did not need to; people there were kind and humane and respectful of one another's space. I did not come across one nasty person. I did not get bumped into or stepped on. There were no intrusive cell-phone conversations. Maybe this is just how it is when you have easy access to ocean, forest, and mountains.

One of the biggest delights of all, however, was that the entire time there (about a week), I did not encounter one dirty public toilet. Not one. From the airport to the national park to restaurants and back to the airport again, not once did I have to wipe up someone else's pee, shoo away a stranger's errant pubes, or tip-toe around puddles in front of the toilet bowl. Good people of Maine, I have to ask: Did all of your mamas just raise you right, or does there exist a little army of bathroom elves who are on the job 24-7?

The only breach of etiquette observed during my week away was committed by an Asian tourist in a lobster pound. He was an old man but had a voracious appetite. That vacuum guy Charles Dyson might have learned a thing or two about suction by watching this man practically make out with his lobster (I'm pretty sure I saw tongue). After this man had orally removed every conceivable piece of nutrition that the crustacean had to offer, he proceeded to let rip the longest, loudest, wettest-sounding fart in the history of the world. And his family had no reaction to this -- they just kept right on eating as if nothing had happened. Note to self: Do not travel to Asia.

Stroller as Combat Vehicle: An Open Letter to Persons Wheeling Children

Because I do not wish to alarm a small child by yelling at his or her mother/father/nanny in public, I hereby submit the following open letter.

Dear Caregiver:

Although I realize that the needs of a child can, at times, take on great urgency, I do not think that it is in the child's -- or anyone else's -- best interest for you to treat the stroller you're pushing as an instrument of force. I do sympathize with the plight of attempting to get a child to daycare on time during rush hour on crowded city sidewalks, but I do not see how running the stroller's wheels into my ankles helps your cause.

Yes, the instrument you are using has wheels and therefore could be considered a vehicle, but strollers don't come with horns or directional signals, so please don't think that you deserve the same respect as a car or bicycle. Transporting a child does not give you carte blanche to mow over pedestrians; in doing so recently, you almost caused me to fall onto the baby. That definitely would have made you late for daycare, which is all you seemed to care about.

The majority of people would be sick if they harmed a child. Please don't put anyone in this position, especially the child! If your stroller is behind me, I can't see you (because I am not a car either, I don't come installed with a rearview mirror). Therefore, take care and "drive" responsibly. Remember that you're pushing around a little human life, not your own agenda.

Most sincerely,
GalWednesday

A Moment of Silence for...Silence

Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to consider the importance of silence in an increasingly noisy society.

Where I live silence is hard to come by, and when it is here it's fleeting. I live in a major metropolis. Metropoli are loud. I know this. For me this makes quietness all the more special the few times it happens. But sometimes I think I'm the only one who feels this way, and it's starting to drive me batty.

Case in point: A rainy Monday, on the train. It's quiet. Everyone is either sleeping, in a stupor, or reading. You can just feel a collective sense of repose, and it's nice. At the next stop a passenger gets on with a little radio that is blaring a hard-thumping song. Every head turns. Some faces have looks of disgust. But no one says anything. We all endure. Why? Why do we let one selfish prick ruin what was a seemingly pleasant environment for everyone?

I know why: We don't want to get shot. This is a reasonable concern in the big city, especially when you hear stories of people getting gunned down and stabbed for talking back to muggers. It sucks that these isolated incidents have to cause so much fear, but it's hard to change that. And that's why those in a position of authority should enforce the rules that they take the time to publicize. Here's one, for starters. This is an official rule of the New York Metropolitan Transit Authority (ie, NYC public transportation): "No person on or in any facility or conveyance shall create any sound through the use of any sound production device, except as specifically authorized by 1050.6(c) of these rules. Use of radios and other devices listened to solely by headphones or earphones and inaudible to others is permitted." See http://www.mta.info/nyct/rules/rules.htm for more entertainment on this order. Not once in my years of living in New York have I seen a transit worker enforce this rule on someone who is clearly breaking it. The rule was made for a reason, and I'd like to think that it has a little something to do with not making passengers become agitated in an enclosed space. But The Man doesn't seem to care, so that means that the little man has to care. Except the little man is too scared to care. And that's how silence dies. Do you care?

I care! Silence permits us to really see and hear things that we could not otherwise detect in the presence of someone else's noise: how beautiful someone's eyes are; the way in which that elderly couple still love each other; the voice of God. Mahatma Gandhi said, "In the attitude of silence the soul finds the path in a clearer light, and what is elusive and deceptive resolves in itself into crystal clearness. Our life is a long and arduous quest after Truth."

I yearn for crystal clearness. And I deeply resent the imposition of one person's noise on a whole group's possible quest after Truth. Does anyone else?