Growing up in the west (Utah), I like my space. In the west we don’t wedge ourselves so tightly into subway cars that you know who ate pastrami for lunch. We don’t jockey for position in crowded streets or share tables with strangers in crowded cafes. We’re more into endless horizons, spacious homes and the open road.
Apparently, not everyone understands the concept of the “personal space bubble”.
While hiking through Bryce Canyon National Park this weekend I found myself totally alone on a cliff, breathing in a 300-mile view of red-rock hoodoos and Douglas Fir. Even though the cliff was 1000’s of feet long, a passing group of German tourists ignored all the vacant parts and surrounded me at pheromone distance, seemingly oblivious to any awkward space problems and my evil glare that would have said “I hope you develop a nasty tongue rash” if I knew how to glare in German.
Oh well. Let’s just chalk it up to Europe being a crowded place with space bubble deflation issues and a finicky Utah boy who prizes solitude.
Apparently, not everyone understands the concept of the “personal space bubble”.
While hiking through Bryce Canyon National Park this weekend I found myself totally alone on a cliff, breathing in a 300-mile view of red-rock hoodoos and Douglas Fir. Even though the cliff was 1000’s of feet long, a passing group of German tourists ignored all the vacant parts and surrounded me at pheromone distance, seemingly oblivious to any awkward space problems and my evil glare that would have said “I hope you develop a nasty tongue rash” if I knew how to glare in German.
Oh well. Let’s just chalk it up to Europe being a crowded place with space bubble deflation issues and a finicky Utah boy who prizes solitude.
