Strangers and Cell Phones
September 17, 2007
Yesterday I walked to the grocery to get milk, and on the way back I am pretty sure I was thinking about cell phones and about how it's not polite to be on them while you are waiting in line (or eating at a restaurant, or having a conversation with another person face to face) because then you don't get, or give, that quality interaction. Or while pumping gas, because you might catch on fire.
The coffee shop I go to regularly, Dewey's, has a sign taped to their counter that states they now reserve the right to refuse service to anyone who doesn't take a few minutes to hang up their phone before they place their order for herbal tea, or fair trade Costa Rican, or iced mocha, or whatever. The sign explains that simple human contact is important, and if you, the customer, can't see the value in that, than they, the provider of goods, will not recognize the value of serving you coffee.
I try to make eye contact and smile and greet people and ask how their days are going when I see them. Not just friends and colleagues, but the cashier at Dave's Supermarket, or the barista at Starbucks. Even though sometimes I think people who drink really expensive chain espresso in the suburbs are the worst types of people out there. They are always in a gigantic hurry and leaning on their horns and swerving in their cars and passing people on the right-hand side at intersections.
When I moved to Cleveland I noticed right away that a lot of the drivers are aggressive, like not making a green light is going to be the last thing they ever do; swear to God or the Cleveland Browns, both of whom really don't need the extra stress, even though the Browns did beat Cincinnati. I think the aggressive driving is the worst in the towns outside the city, because yesterday before I fell asleep I went out in my car trying to find some place to rollerblade, and a wrong turn led me into some area of the city I hadn't been before.
I could tell it was deeper into the city because it wasn't as pristine (by a long shot) and there were more empty buildings and the houses looked less like houses that would be occupied by families who pay other people to cut their grass than the houses in the suburbs. People drove slower and let each other out and I didn't hear any beeps, not once.
When I was walking back to my apartment last night after my jaunt around the neighborhoods and my trip for food I stopped on the way back and got some ice cream. And an older man fell into step with me (which is hard to do, because I walk fast, but I had slowed down as I crossed the train tracks), and he said, "That looks good," about my dish, and I said, "It is," and he said, "I wish I had some," and I smiled and laughed, and he said, "Mind if I introduce myself?" and it is here that all my charitable and altruistic notions of being friendly went out the window, because for whatever reason my girl-defenses kicked in and I shook my head and walked away.
So, I'm not sure why I am so pro-getting chummy when there is a counter between us and so hesitant to make pals with some random man on the street. Maybe it means I am being safe. From male senior citizens who want to make my acquaintance. Do they know what day and age we live in? That I am bound, as a woman, to watch out for predators lurking at every turn? Or maybe it means I am a hypocrite. That I save my "hello's" and "how are you's?" for those who aren't an obvious threat.
Which, come to think of it, is a pretty ambiguous statement.
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Must you remind me of the Bengals' loss?
:( <--Sad panda
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