Spacing

Misty brought up a good point in her comment on my last post (thanks for all the comments, by the way. Who would have thought seven people would have commented on a post about urinals?) She mentioned that picking a urinal is partially about spacing, and that the idea of spacing is pervasive throughout our society.

Spacing is very dependent on where we are and what we're doing. If you're standing in line at the grocery store, it's okay to be standing a foot or two behind the person in front of you. If, however, you're in a restroom, it's a little creepy to stand directly behind someone. Try it; you'll get looks.

In Italy, where they've never heard of the concept of a "line", your body position is extremely important. If you stand in line directly behind someone, you're just asking for someone to step in front of you. If, however, you're slightly out of line--just a half step--, but you're turned in toward the line (so you can plausibly pretend not to see someone trying to sneak in from the side (if you make eye contact, they take that as permission to step in front of you)), you can keep everyone in line (no pun intended. Okay, so maybe I intended it a little.)

Standing in an elevator is another area known for awkward spacing. Typically, the riders of an elevator crowd around the outside edges of the 'vator. And, oddly, everyone faces the door. And--I've never seen what's so fascinating--they stare at it. Sometimes they'll look up at the floor indicator, but only when they hear a ding.

If there are more people than can comfortably fit around the edges (like if somebody runs to catch the elevator as the door's closing and sticks his arm through, then realizes that the 'vator's full, but he gets in anyway because he already made everybody wait), then people have to stand in the middle, a very uncomfortable place to be. Of course, they have to face the door (and stare at it (maybe they can see what's so interesting, being a little closer)), but no everyone else has something to look at besides the door.

But, even with someone in front of you to look at, you can't stare because other people might see you looking in between their own looks.

Everyone has their own idea of what an appropriate space is between them and the rest of the world. Some people will get on a "full" elevator, making everyone squeeze closer together. Some people will wait hours for an empty elevator to arrive.

Everyone's idea of what's too close and what's not may change based on the situation, or the other people involved in the situation. Sitting on the couch comes to mind. Two guys can't sit next to each other on a couch--not without a man-buffer pillow. If there are three people on a 3-bum couch, you can bet there's a girl sitting in the middle (or two man-buffer pillows). Without the girl (the true man buffer) or the pillows (the artificial man buffers) no two guys will sit next to each other.

If two people are sitting on a 3-bum couch, chances are they're sitting at opposite ends, unless they also sleep in the same bed (the exception, of course, is when someone from one of the ends stands up, but within mere moments the center person will move over, or he'll miss his chance as someone else fills the void). I still don't understand that rare breed of person that, when given a choice of any position on a couch (knowing that other people will be sitting there too), sits on the center cushion. Maybe they're the same people that pick the center square first in tic-tac-toe.

A 2-bum couch is a different story; there's no way to stay separated from the other inhabitant. A man-buffer pillow is essential. If a man came in from a 20-mile run and his legs were unable to hold his body up, he would continue to stand rather than sit next to another man on a 2-bum couch, assuming there were no man-buffers. The man already seated on the couch could even offer his seat, but the running man wouldn't take it, insisting that he enjoys standing and would feel awkward sitting.

The grocery store (okay, any store) is another interesting place to study the spacing between people. There's always that person standing in the aisle, looking for canned asparagus, with her cart partially blocking the garbanzo beans (products have been made up to make this lame scenario more interesting) that you want. Sure, you could physically reach the beans, probably without even touching her cart. But if you reached for them she'd either think you're trying to steal the low-fat tortillas from her cart, or feel really bad that she was blocking you unwittingly.

What most people do in that situation is say, "Excuse me". Some say it in a polite tone, like my wife does, and some say it with a more arrogant air (not like me; I pretend to be looking at canned tomatoes until she moves. It works well, except those times when she's pretending to look at canned asparagus waiting for me to move away from the tomatoes.)

I could go on, but Annie's telling me it's time to sleep. And, since I'd like to maintain the close spacing we currently enjoy, I'll agree with her. But, as homework, think of all the places where spacing is important to you: movie theaters, car repair shops, DMV lines. Wherever.