Found the ship

July 4, 2008
Musket Cove, Fiji


It’s really amazing how well you know your home. I’ve been gone for over half a year and yet I still I can walk this ship blindfolded without stubbing a toe.

The trip here was long but painless. Yesterday Jenny Mushu gave me the ride to the train station in Solana Beach and it was there that I said my final goodbye. I’ve made that particular train ride enough times that it’s become routine in a way. It’s no longer a voyage off to exciting adventure, there’s no unknown variable to surprise me, no tricky schedules to make me apprehensive anymore. Taking the train to LA in order to catch a flight out of the country had become common enough to me that it’s almost mundane. I’ve done the whole routine enough times that is has become just that: routine. First I start by saying goodbye to my friends, then I drive to Arizona and pack up most of my worldly possessions, I return to farewell parties for a few days and then I leave. The whole trip to LA and then the flight out has been done enough times that it now seems like I’m just driving across town. To be honest though, it’s actually like driving across town for 38 hours in a very cramped space. First the train, then the bus, then the plane, then the bus, then the ferry etc….

A funny thing happened at the terminal that morning. When I finally got to the gate the seats were mostly occupied. There were a few families sitting together in groups, but single passengers took up most of the seats. As we do in America, the people were afraid to sit next to each other so only every other seat was occupied. It was like the men’s urinal population distribution. If you have to pee in a public bathroom, you don’t go up and pee next to the guy that’s already there, you evenly distribute yourself amongst the available spaces. (Esto: you’ll have to tell me the law of chemistry that explains this phenomenon. You know, the one about gas molecules evenly distributing themselves into the atmosphere of the space they occupy). Anyway, there were all these people sitting on the floor of the terminal because there was no seat in the rows about them that could be taken without sitting next to someone that was already firmly ensconced. All you had to do was go up to someone and ask if you could take the empty seat next to them. Hell, you didn’t even have to ask. But still people sat on the floor because they would rather be uncomfortable than have to talk to their fellow human beings.

I, on the other hand, didn’t adhere to such nonsense. After seeing the situation as it laid out before me I laughed at the stupidity of our culture and quickly moved to chat up the first stranger I saw next to an empty seat. They were friendly enough, but were also saving the seat next to them for a spouse in the restroom. It was fair enough so I looked about me to see whom I’d prefer to sit next to. There was a bunch of angry looking people and one hot young chick. My mind was made up.

After a brief question (“Is anyone sitting here?”) I took a seat and started reading my newspaper. I even offered one of the sections that I was finished reading to my neighbor. It didn’t take but a few minutes before the girl got up and left. I didn’t think much of it at first but later I saw the girl standing in the terminal waiting for the plane rather than taking a seat after her return. Her old seat next to me had been taken by another waiting passenger, but rather than take another seat, she chose to stand rather than interact with her fellow human travelers. At first I thought it was just me that she didn’t want to sit next to. Did I stink? I couldn’t tell, and Tom Lucenti wasn’t around to tell me if I did or not. After observing all the people in the gate, however, I figured it out. The American personal space bubble is simply too big to accommodate bench seating in unfamiliar situations. Here in Fiji, full grown heterosexual men walk down the street with an arm over each others shoulders or just plainly hold hands. You see it everywhere and never give is a second thought. The same held true in China and Korea. White folks just have massive issues with proximity and that’s that. It’s like we can’t have casual physical contact. All touch is reserved for the intimate.

While eating dinner at the Bradley International Terminal of LAX I had to look hard to find a place to eat because all the tables were occupied. I got a seat at the table of a stranger (who was sitting alone) simply because I walked up and asked. It was no big thing for the Japanese guy I shared the table with. We didn’t speak during the meal and when he was done he left without a word, just like strangers in a cafeteria. During the time I took at the table I was passed by dozens of Americans looking for a table. Many of them chose to eat their food standing up because all the tables were occupied. Not all the seats, mind you, but all the tables. In the hour and a half that I sat at that table I shared it with 5 different groups of people that simply asked me if they could take a seat. None of them spoke more than a few words of English because all of them were from far away places. What the heck is wrong with Americans?

When I finally got onto the plane I found myself sitting twinkie in my row. I was one seat from the window and one seat from the isle. Mohamed was a cool Fijian that sat on the isle but the window seat was waiting to be occupied. Imagine my surprise when the person who shows up to take it is none other than the girl I sat next to in the terminal. “Well this is awkward,” I thought to myself. As it turns out the poor kid had never been out of the country and just didn’t know any better. At first I thought that it was a shame how Americans are so afraid of foreign people and foreign experiences…but then it dawned on me that I was no foreigner to this person. We were fellow citizens, spoke the same language and shared the same culture. Yet at the same time we were foreign to each other. We’re all so ingrained with the “Stranger Danger” mentality that it restricts us from being full human beings in America. Unfortunately, the “Stranger Danger” mentality also guides our political foreign policy.

(You won’t believe this, but my return key just broke on my computer as I’m typing this. This is the first time that I’ve taken the thing out since I left the country and what do you know. Broken return key. It’s this foreign country I tell ya! It’s bustin’ my gear! I guess I just can’t trust it if it ain’t God Blessed American. )

I’ll have to wrap things up as my anchor watch is coming to an end. Thanks for reading, everyone. Hopefully I’ll be able to entertain you with a few more adventures this year. Keep the questions coming, and start making plans for Christmas in New Zealand!

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