Wanderlust

Does the act of traveling somehow rob us of our most basic grasp of common sense and common courtesy? Just because we are outside of our everyday realm of existence, do we inherently become entitled to be really stupid and shockingly rude?

Yesterday, I went into Copley Square, fully aware of the fact that a summer Saturday in one of the most touristed areas of Boston left the situation ripe for moments of frustration. Boy, was I right.



I poked around in the Prudential Mall for a while and when it came time to leave, I headed for the Boylston Street exit. There is a long escalator to descend to reach the actual street level. Normally I'd just take the stairs down, but yesterday I was wearing these wedge shoes that make going downstairs seem like a precarious proposition for me. I can be quite clumsy sometimes. (You should see the MASSIVE bruises on my legs, sustained in a fall from my bike last weekend.) Anyway, as I neared the escalator, I noticed an older couple standing there talking. The closer I got to the escalator, the clearer the details of the scene became. The couple, who were speaking what seemed to be a northern European language, were actually standing there, shooting the breeze in a most leisurely manner, ON THE TOP ESCALATOR LANDING. They weren't going anywhere. They were not preparing to step onto the actual moving belt of the escalator. They were simply standing there chatting. I know my readers will accuse me of exaggerating. I admit that I am prone to hyperbole, but I'm not joking you here. These folks were not near the escalator, or even just somewhere annoyingly close to it. They were ON the landing and were making no haste to move anywhere. Other people seemed to approach, under the delusion that these folks were going to get on the escalator, and they would just sort of wait there, behind the couple, for a few seconds. When it became clear that the couple were just squatting on the escalator landing, the other shoppers would invariably just step aside and take the stairs. I wish I could say that I were as kind and as patient. Although I, too, fell into the trap of waiting for a few seconds before realizing that these people were taking up residence there, and although I too took the stairs, I did not refrain from telling them, "Hey, that's probably not the best place to just stand around talking." You could argue that they were not English speakers and therefore didn't understand what I said. But don't fool yourselves. All these northern Europeans speak at least 9 languages fluently, flawlessly and without accent. And one of them is ALWAYS English. I can say with confidence that these people would NOT have done this in Norway or Finland or whatever. I assert that since they were traveling, they were overcome by the traveler stupidity virus.



Later in the day, I took the bus back to Central Square. It was raining ever so lightly when the bus arrived in Central. Some Japanese family (obvious tourists) were on the bus, too. The mother decided to open her umbrella ON THE BUS before getting out. As if that weren't bad enough, the umbrella was broken and this woman went a full 15 rounds with it in the doorway to the bus while 78 people behind her (of which I was one) waited for her to move her ass so we could get off the bus. This is to say nothing of the 890 people waiting to board the bus. How stupid and inconsiderate can somebody get! "Let me salvage my hairdo from the one drop of rain that might hit it at all costs...even if it means falsely imprisoning the people behind me on the bus, and preventing people waiting for the bus from getting to their jobs and appointments on time." Once again, you know as well as I do that this woman is no moron. When she's home in Tokyo, she's probably a model of Japanese efficiency, moving through the crowded streets and navigating the jam packed subway system of Tokyo with a machine-like deftness. But here, she can't walk and chew gum at the same time.




A few years ago, I traveled to Germany and France with my colleague, Jenn. She turned out to be a real loser. She was reliant upon me to negotiate travel arrangements and organize the various legs of the trip. And why shouldn't she? I know Germany and France, and more importantly, I am able to communicate with people. What would be the point of making her try to communicate with people when I can do it? That was never the problem. The problem was that she was extremely ungrateful to my friends who put us up. They all put their kids out of their rooms and onto living room sofas to give us our own space in their places. They went out of their way to make nice meals for us and generally ensure that we had a pleasant stay. All Jenn did, however, was complain. She is a vegan. Germans don't understand what that means. Jenn bitched and moaned about everything. The food they prepared. The lack of organic vegetables. The fact that her bedroom window faced a busy street and she was awakened early in the morning. The lack of screens on the window, which obviously allows mosquitoes into the place. The lack of airconditioning. Everything. Nothing pleased her.

And she was soooooo stupid and helpless on the trip. Once again, I fully expected to help her communicate. I had no problem with that. But to give you an idea of a typical exchange...



The picture above shows a store called Karstadt. It is a huge chain of department stores in Germany. They have several branches. They have Karstadt sport, Karstadt clothing, Karstadt Home, etc. The picture above shows a Karstadt Home store. We were walking through a small town one day (Celle), and we walked by a Karstadt Wohnen (Home.) The entire front of the store was one massive display window, and in the display window, there were entire bedrooms set up, as well as living rooms, kitchen tables and chairs, and a plethora of household items. You don't have to be able to speak a language to look into a store display window and figure out what they sell. Imagine some Chinese guy walking past a Crate and Barrel store and looking in the window. He doesn't speak a word of English, but the displays of desks, beds, chairs, table settings, plates, pots, pans and kettles might give a slight hint as to what's available inside.

Anyway, Jenn approached the window and looked at it in such a concentrated, bewildered state that it immediately called to mind the little girl in Poltergeist when she was staring at the static-filled TV screen, just before she turned around and eerily announced, "They're baaaaaaaaack."

She actually placed her hands on the glass of the store before turning to me and asking, "What is this?"

I looked closely at the display, thinking there must have been some item of curiosity there. Seeing a mere kettle surrounded by teacups and spoons, I asked, "What's what?"

She gestured broadly to the entire store and said, "This. What's this?"

I looked around, wondering if I could possibly be missing something. I replied, "Am...its a store. A Karstadt Home Store."

To this she replied, "OOOOhhhhhhhh!."

I thought to myself, "Jesus, that really WAS what she was asking" She wanted to know what this large building in the middle of a shopping district with display windows featuring items with price tags could possibly be. The people going in and then exiting with bags full of boxed goods didn't seem to add any clarity to the sitatution either apparently.

When I thought this conversation had mercifully come to an end, she piped up again and asked, "What do you think they sell here.?"

I started looking all around me, convinced that the crew of the German equivalent of "Candid Camera" was going to pop out and surprise me at any second.

But this was not to be.

I said, "I'm pretty sure they sell homegoods and furniture in here."

She asked, "How do you know? Is it because you used to live in Germany?

Jesus, I used to always say that I thought everybody should try to go live overseas at some point in their lives, but after seeing the effect that expatriation had on Jenn, I'm going to recant.

On the way home from Germany, we had a connection in Newark. For some reason, my bag was searched and seized first by Customs, and then again by the U.S. Department of Agriculture. Jenn kept trying to wait for me, and the customs workers kept telling her that she had to move on. I reassured her that since we each individually held our own tickets and could see the gate numbers on them, she should just go ahead and I'd meet her at the gate.

You would have thought I was telling a 3 year-old child to go negotiate her way through a major airport on her own. She actually asked me, "But how will I find it?"

I told her that there was a pretty good chance the directions would be indicated in 6 foot letters on every single wall, door and ramp.

When I finally caught up with her at the gate, I noticed that there was a little Swatch stand closeby. I love Swatches, so I went to have a look. Jenn joined me. What a shocker. Otherwise, she would have had to sit there on her own for 12 seconds. She took a liking to a particular Swatch. The guy working the little counter came over and asked if we needed any help. Keep in mind, we're back in Newark. In the United States. Everybody speaks English again. However, Jenn asks me, "Can you ask the guy how much this watch it?" THE GUY WAS RIGHT THERE!!!!! The guy and I both looked at her, stupefied. I gave her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she had become so used to being overseas and needing me to translate that she was just not thinking clearly. I said, "Hey, we're in New Jersey. The guy speaks English!" I said it kind of jokingly, although I was ready to have myself committed to a rubber room at this point. The best part came when she replied, "Oh, I know. Can you ask him how much this costs?" The guy and I exchanged befuddled looks and then the guy said, without my having to ask him, "Ahh...its 45 dollars." He was looking all around, too. Apparently he also thought he was the unwitting victim of some hidden camera show.


Once, when I was flying back from Europe, I had to stop through Paris Charles de Gaulle Airport first. That place is the armpit of humanity. They never put passengers right into a plane. Instead, they keep you waiting for ages, then herd you into a room where you wait for a shuttle bus. The bus takes you across the entire runway to your awaiting plane. There was a guy on the shuttle with is kid. He had a little umbrella stroller folded up. He only had a backpack on his back, the kid in one arm, and the carriage in the other arm. He seemed to be managing fine. When the bus stopped on the tarmac, next to the plane, the guy was the first to exit. He felt the need, for some reason, to get the kid into the stroller for the 20 foot walk to the plane. Instead of simply stepping to the side of the bus to set up the stroller, he actually stepped off the bus, and proceeded not only to open the carriage, but also to change the kid's diaper RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE DOOR. Nobody could get off the bus because this jackass hadn't had the good sense to move 2 feet out of his way to get off to the side. Ridiculous!




And finally, my favorite. On that very same trip home, when I finally arrived in Boston, I made my way to baggage claim. My LEAST favorite thing in the world. There were a million people there, 10 thousand flights had just arrived and were spilling baggage onto the belts, and people were tired, cranky, smelly and just wanted to get the hell home.

Some woman, deciding that she really didn't need the luggage cart that she had taken, pushed it out of her way, with great vigor, and into the throngs of people standing there awaiting their luggage. The thing hit me, HARD, right in the knees and ankles. I was pissed. The woman had followed the trajectory of the cart with her eyes, observed it hitting me, and then looked away. HOW ABOUT "I'M SORRY ABOUT THAT?" Not a chance.

I took the cart, shoved it with even greater vigor right back into her legs when she had turned away and back to the luggage belt. Rest assured, I stood right there just waiting for her to look back over. When she did, with a filthy look on her face, I asked, "Yeah, how ya like me now?"

I know I've probably offended people during my travels, too, but I at least TRY to be aware. I can handle being stupid every once in a while, but I do try to refrain from being dead rude. I can't wait to be in Croatia, but getting there might be a real pain in the butt!