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Magnetic Personalities?
To broaden my horizons, I once took an African History course. The professor was a native of Sudan; he wasn't even from Khartoum, Sudan's "big" city, but from some rural village. As you might guess, he experienced a bit of culture shock on his first trip to the United States. It probably didn't help that he started out in New York City.
In a Sudanese village, you don't just nod your head imperceptibly at someone as you pass by. That would be impolite. To ignore them entirely wouldn't even cross your mind. Instead, you stop and have a little conversation.
So when my professor first came here and got on a public bus with three guys on it and lots of empty seats in between, he'd do the polite thing and sit next to one of them and start talking. It was evidently several trips (and highly negative reactions from his new chat buddy) before he realized that such behavior is Not Done over here.
If a rural Sudanese can learn this, why is the concept apparently so difficult for many native-born Americans?
I'm definitely a product of my own culture. I like my personal space, almost(?) pathologically so. I hate crowds, long lines, large groups of people. My idea of Hell is a long airplane flight stuck next to some stranger that wants to talk to me. Basic courtesy is fine: "Excuse me, I have to visit the rest room," or "Pardon me, but do you have the time?" But I don't want to compare jobs or home towns or see your grandkids or hear how you'd solve world problems or how much you like golf, thanks. I've got this book in my hand for a reason.
So why do I, of all people, seem to attract our native version of the rural Sudanese?
Yesterday my family went out to a fast food restaurant. A fairly small one, granted, with maybe twenty tables. The only other people in the place are sitting in a booth in the back, so we pick a nice spot by the side wall farthest away from them. Ten minutes later some guy walks in, gets his food, and plops down at the very next table.
I think this calls for a visual:
| -- | -- | -- | -- | |
| Guy | -- | -- | -- | |
| Us | -- | -- | -- | |
| -- | -- | -- | -- | |
| -- | -- | OP | -- |
Now why would anyone want to do that? We have kids, for crying out loud, two young ones. I've been out to dinner with kids that have pelted the strangers at the next table with food. While my kids wouldn't do that (or haven't, so far . . . ), it's not like random strangers would know that. So it's inconceivable to me that someone would voluntarily have their dinner disrupted by kids when there are all those empty tables at the other side of the restaurant.
And it's not like we adults are having any interesting conversation, either -- it's mostly attempts to get the kids to settle down and help them with their food and actually eat the stuff before we all die from how excruciatingly boring it is. Are the shows on TV really so bad that people would prefer to watch someone say "Eat!" five hundred million times in a row?
This wasn't an isolated incident, either. My wife and I have had this happen so many times that pretty much all we have to do is look at one another when it occurs -- we're both thinking "here we go again."
I suppose I could understand this behavior if you lived alone and were really lonely and bored, though it seems to me you could still observe events from afar without the possible sonic and/or comestible assaults, but this also happens to us in movie theaters, and it's usually couples who are the offenders there.
We once were the only people in a theater when the previews were being shown. Then two minutes into the main feature, just as we're settling down to enjoy the film, a couple comes in and sits down in the row behind us. There's 300 seats in the theatre, 298 of them are empty, and the seats right behind us are the seats of choice? We're pretty well-behaved movie watchers but how would they know that? And don't our heads get in the way? Why would anyone do that?
If you know, please tell me. Just not when we're standing in line together.
Dave Townsend / townsend@patriot.net / 17 Apr 01
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