For the Love of Cougars

Over the past ten years or so there's been an increased fascination with "cougars." You know, the women who are on the prowl for young, fresh meat. Unfortunately, there's also been gross misuse of the term "cougar" and I'm about to shed light on that.

Upon consulting the quintessential resource for hip vernacular--Urbandictionary.com--I found a number of entries for cougar. Here are pieces of the two most popular and most coherent:

1.	Cougar
	An older woman who frequents clubs in order to score with a much younger man. The cougar can be anyone from an overly surgically altered wind tunnel victim, to an absolute sad and bloated old horn-meister, to a real hottie or milf.

2.	Cougar
	(see also hunt, prowl, corner, pounce). Noun. A 35+ year old female who is on the "hunt" for a much younger, energetic, willing-to-do-anything male. The cougar can frequently be seen in a padded bra, cleavage exposed, propped up against a swanky bar... gearing up to sink her claws into an innocent young and strapping buck who happens to cross her path.

Pretty simple, right? So why am I up in arms about the use of the term? Because it has somehow morphed due to overuse and often includes all women in their 30s-50s, not exclusively those who are on the prowl for young men. When I use the term "cougar" I literally mean a woman hunting for a younger guy to use as a boy toy. I don't mean a woman in her 30s or older who simply enjoys going out to restaurants, lounges or bars for a social experience. Most (if not all) of the single women I know don't set out looking for a younger man, so the increasingly casual use of the term typically isn't appropriate.


Here's a cougar pouncing on its prey.

 

Here's another cougar pouncing on its prey.














I mostly blame the young dudes who are of the age to be prime cougar meat for slinging around the term indiscriminately. Secretly, I think some of them desperately want to be targeted by a cougar, although in reality it hasn't happened, and likely won't. It's a lot easier for them to view these women as old, sad, pathetic and worthy of rude jokes rather than to admit cougars aren't that prevalent, and most older women have absolutely no interest in youngsters in the first place. As far as I'm concerned, snarkily calling someone a "cougar" is the modern day equivalent to the equally infuriating classic rejected-guy line of "she's probably a lesbian anyway."

Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of young women who refer to older women as cougars as well. But I've found it to be a less common occurence than with men.

I've recently discovered several bars in my area being referred to as "cougar bars." There are websites devoted specifically to listing such bars throughout the country. Upon looking at some of these, it riles me that they're often places that 30 and 40-somethings regularly hang out. I've noticed a growing number of young people, typically men, referring to any establishment where 30 and 40-somethings gather as a cougar bar. Let's think about this. Logically, wouldn't cougars have far better luck by targeting bars where 20-somethings hang out?

Guess what hipsters, we like going out too! Passing the age of 29 does not mean it's suddenly unacceptable to venture outside the confines of one's own domicile. But listening to some of the younguns speak would lead me to believe that is the case. BELIEVE ME, most of us no longer have any desire to frequent your hangouts.  We don't want to cram into a scummy bar or club, elbow to elbow with 1,500 gyrating people whom we can't hear anyway, while fending off immature dudes and their unoriginal pickup lines, steering away from pervs who use the packed-like-sardines excuse as a reason for rubbing against us, and avoiding the inexperienced drinkers who appear on the verge of projectile vomiting. So just leave me be at my wine lounge where I have breathing room, delicious drinks, (sometimes) stimulating conversations and don't have to worry about whether my cute shoes will need to be wiped clean at the end of the night. Let it be known: hangouts for people over the age of 29 are not necessarily cougar bars.

Another rule to remember is that just because we're older and they're younger does not make young men instantly irresistable. The rules of attraction still apply regardless of age. So pull up your pants, comb your overly long hair, stop brooding and come back to chat when you have something to say other than how misunderstood you are both at work and by your parents.

By the time maturity sets in, these guys will be the same age as the cougars, and will have lost all ability to be viewed as meat. And maybe then they'll stop referring to all adult hangouts as cougar bars and all women over 30 as cougars. Because, of course, after turning 30 they'll have lost their edge and will simply be considered "dirty old men" who hang out at dirty old man bars.

Triple Trouble

For those of you who may not already know, I am married to an identical triplet. Disclosing this fun fact for the first (or sometimes tenth) time usually wins me bug-eyed stares, mouths agape and comments like, "Wow! What's that like?" Well, fine readers, here you go. I'm about to tell you "what that's like."

It's just like being married to anyone else. There, I said it.

OK, it's not ALWAYS that easy, but 99% of the time it really is. Maybe it's easier for me not to get caught up in the hype because my dad is a fraternal twin and I grew up listening to him field silly questions and comments from the amazed masses. (For the record, fraternal twins do not look alike, so to ask if people can tell them apart is just plain stupid.)

Was I initially intrigued at the idea of dating a triplet? Yeah, sure. But it makes it a lot easier to "get over it" when the brothers all lived in different cities, as they did when Chris and I first met. Multiples are individuals and typically have vastly unique personalities, but many people tend to overlook that very important fact. Another thing to remember is how time and environmental factors eventually cause even identicals to start exhibiting more distinct features. Most of the identical twins I know definitely look more different as they age than when they were younger. Plus, my hubby has become more recognizable to some people because he doesn't wear contacts like the others, so he's now "the one with glasses."

Three times the fun.

In looking at pictures over the years, I can pick out resemblances between different brothers at different times in their lives. It's amusing to hear stories from people who knew them before I even appeared on the scene, talking about which brothers looked like each other and the age range during which that was the case. I really do struggle to tell them apart in certain childhood pictures. I shouldn't say this, but in some pictures even my mother-in-law says she has no idea which is which. But usually there are telltale grins, winks or head tilts that differentiate the brothers.

How cute are these guys??!

I have seen the brothers exhibit much grace and patience when dealing with questions that others like myself would scoff at and offer nothing but an eye roll in response. Let me educate you a bit on multiples and why inane questions are not cute or considered acceptable small talk unless you know them incredibly well.  OK, maybe I'm projecting a bit, but just imagine being peppered with the following questions/comments for a lifetime and you might BEGIN to understand what these wonderful guys (and all multiples) have to go through.

Let's just go ahead and give the answer to the first question I am asked time after time after time: Yes, of COURSE I can tell them apart. Chris and I have been together for more than 10 years, do you really think I can't tell who my husband is? As mentioned previously, each of the brothers has taken on a distinct look with age. Also, please refer back to the part above where I said multiples have unique personalities. Even if I had met one of the other brothers first, I can't see myself having dated them. They're great guys and all, but I like Chris for HIS personality and for who HE is. This brings me to...

Normal identical triplets are not porn stars. Trust me, I've tried.

No, I have never, nor do I intend to ever, make out with any of the triplets besides Chris. This is a perverse question I get more from guys than girls. I think it has something to do with the guy fantasy of carrying out nasty acts with hot female multiples. Anyone with brothers or sisters, just take into consideration how gross it would be to do such things with your siblings present. Now, imagine the repulsiveness of trying to DO some of those things WITH your siblings. If you're not gagging right now, please stop reading this post, remove yourself from the Appalachian home you are apparently inhabiting, and get yourself some help.

Also along those lines, no I don't have two others as "back-ups" in case anything happens to Chris. Sick.

Yes, I am SURE they are triplets. I trust that their mother would have noticed if she gave birth to only one baby, as opposed to THREE. She wasn't simply trying to brag about what she could do. And look at them now... how many 6'5" brothers who weigh the same, with brown hair, blue eyes, the same build, similar mannerisms and similar voices do you think you could possibly get together at once? I'm not saying it's not possible, I'm just saying it's not probable so your question is probably, possibly dumb.

Do not ask if they play tricks on people. Most multiples do not. (Except for that one instance of a brother breaking up with the other brother's girlfriend in high school. Bygones.)

No, they didn't dress alike as children. While some multiples do this, my mother-in-law was smart enough to encourage each to display his unique personality. Dressing multiples alike sends the message that the kids are the same person. Sure, this phenomenon might be amusing once in a while, but I don't believe it's healthy on a regular basis. Oh, and for those of you who ask me if the brothers dress alike NOW... um... they're in their 30s. That would be just plain sad.

No, if one of them does something/gets drunk/gets hurt, the others don't feel it. This isn't E.T., people.

The brothers are close. But not creepy close, like this.

Yes, there is a certain closeness among the brothers, as there seems to be with many other multiples. While some prefer to chalk this up to some sort of freaky twin-bond or twin-speak, I have a different theory. Putting children of such close age into such close proximity with each other throughout the same situations in life creates its own kind of tight bond. Similiar instances can be observed with cousins or non-family members who start living with children of the same age. I really think a lot of siblings' closeness is based on parenting, and Chris' family is incredibly close as it is.  All of these things come together to create the close bond the triplets exhibit... not some creepy twin syndrome à la "The Shining."

Who cares who's the oldest? I don't understand why people become so enamored with finding out the birth order. It really means nothing.

I don't know if twins run in their family. Quite frankly, that doesn't even matter with identicals, so don't ask.

Yes, they are "natural" twins. Fertility drugs only cause women to release extra eggs, which produces fraternal twins, not identical. Identicals are freaks of nature (as Chris would say) which scientists still struggle to explain. Plus, even if they weren't "natural", why would that be your business to find out a couple's sexual and reproductive history? Ew.

Possibly the most annoying/disturbing thing people ask/point out is my likelihood for having twins in the future. First, let me say that having children is not in my game plan, so the thought of multiples gives me heart palpitations (more on that in a future post). Secondly, marrying an identical triplet is not the issue... it's having a fraternal twin father that's the issue. My grandmother was clearly a hyper egg producer, which can be genetic. That's the frightening statistic I have to watch out for. Please don't point this out to me, because I am acutely aware of the odds. As my former supervisor Glen liked to tease me when learning about the situation with Chris and my dad, "Geez, you'll get pregnant three times and you'll have a baseball team." Thanks, Glen. Thanks.

Please do not think that this post means you cannot ask any questions about being a multiple. But do remember that there is definitely a time and a place for everything. If you are meeting a multiple for the first time, it's unlikely that any personal "twin" questions are appropriate, particularly some of the common sense ones outlined above. But as you get to know the brothers more, you'll see that they even bring up their situation sometimes. Often, to joke about the folly of their mother not cashing in on the rarity of identical multiples back in the day, and "their money" going to other multiples in a variety of ads (think Double Mint gum, for instance).

I've told you things you shouldn't do, but what SHOULD you do? Get to know my husband for the fun, intelligent, caring person he is. I married him because he's a fantastic guy with a big heart, not because there are two other humans ridiculously similar to him. Once you get to know him, I bet you'll quickly forget he's even a multiple. Until, of course, you encounter all three together and they revert to childish slap fights, insults about the others being ugly, comments about one being adopted and arguments over birth order. Then you'll just WISH you didn't know they were multiples.

So Good It's Golden

As long as I have taken to using this blog as an occasional confessional, I might as well make another admission. Here it goes. *Deep breath* I am addicted to...


Wait for it....


..."The Golden Girls."

Yes, I'm cringing right now, waiting for the peals of laughter which I'm sure are occurring right now.  I don't know what it is, but I cannot get enough of that show. It's particularly inviting in the winter to put on my ridiculously large fuzzy slippers, curl up under my fluffy blanket, drink a glass of wine, and watch the ladies solve their problems over some cheesecake. Thank goodness Hallmark Channel has a marathon most weeknights, or I'd have to resort to some form of mindless entertainment other than reciting along with the verbal jabs Dorothy hurls at Rose.



Ah, yes, the confused looks as the ladies listen to a Rose story.

This isn't really a new found enjoyment, it's more of a rediscovery. It may actually stem from cozy, comforting feelings of watching the show in my youth. Back when I was a child and pre-teen-- before I was old enough to terrorize my parents by gallivanting around town and (gasp!) driving-- I used to watch that show every Saturday night. I chuckled at Rose and her dimwitted musings. I would stifle laughter over Blanche and her naughty ways so my parents didn't know I understood the jokes. And I feel as though I've basically turned into snarky Sophia at a disturbingly young age.

One aspect of the show I didn't appreciate until I was older was that Rose was from St. Olaf. When I was younger, I thought this was a made-up, mythical land in a country far, far away... kind of like Balki Bartokomous from "Perfect Strangers" and his fictional island of Mypos. Upon rediscovering "The Golden Girls" in the past few years, it hit me that St. Olaf was, in fact, in Minnesota. Then the gears (slowly) started turning and I remembered that for the short time I lived in Minnesota, I had indeed heard of the storied St. Olaf, and people spoke of it quite fondly. Of course, the people there are not the buffoons portrayed on TV (or so I'm told). Though I have never been there, it made me enjoy the show even more to have this small connection.

Does my enjoyment of the geriatric ladies make me a dork? Yes, definitely. A complete loser? Possibly, but I'd like to think not. Although sharing this odd affinity with the character Ross on "Friends" certainly doesn't help my case. But c'mon, you can't hear the opening notes to that theme song and NOT sing along. ("Thank you for being a friend...")

There are things to be learned from the women other than just that true friendship is timeless. Perhaps the funniest thing about my love of the show is how differently I view it as I grow older. My thoughts on time and ages has changed. When I first watched the series in my youth, the women seemed incredibly old. But watching it now I realize that at the beginning of the series the ladies are in their early 50s. 50s! I thought that was "elderly" and "close to death" when I was 9, but now it doesn't seem that way at all. I mean, my parents just turned 60 and they seem a lot younger now than the Golden Girls at 50. And what does this say about me and my advancing age? Yuck, let's not even delve into that.

Granted, everyone grows older differently, but it's amazing how our aging processes and perceptions of it change with each passing generation. As our life expectancies increase, ages which previously conjured images of nursing homes and walkers now equate to people who travel, exercise and in many cases still work. I love the fact that my parents are so active they seem like they're in their 40s, and that I would never guess right now they were close to, much less older than, the Golden Girls. The same goes for my in-laws who are incredibly active world travelers.

In retrospect, it seems so odd to me that the ladies didn't appear to hold down full-time jobs, and two of them had been widowed for about 10 years. Although this is how some people of that age live today, I think I would be hard pressed to find anyone I know in their early 50s in such a situation, much less enough to form a group and make it seem commonplace, as it was in the show. With any luck, my parents won't be in that position until they're at least 90. And my Golden Girls shouldn't anticipate me moving in with them until I'm approximately 110.

Until I reach that state when I spend countless nights giggling with older girlfriends over ice cream and cake late into the night, I will spend my time doing the same with my younger girlfriends, and will enjoy every minute of it. That, and I'll continue to watch "The Golden Girls" in reruns ad nauseum. If you want to join me, there's always room for another fan on my couch. And I might even share my fuzzy blanket.  ("...Your heart is true, you're a pal and a confidant...")

The Fall of Summer

Dear Summer,
Please hold on just for a few more weeks.
Love,
Katie

I sent the note above to my beloved summertime, but I'm pretty sure my response was that far off, yet distinct, laughter blowing in the wind. I keep reminding myself that it isn't fall yet, but the passing of Labor Day, the unofficial end of summer, warns me that autumn lingers on the not-so-distant horizon. I'm not prepared to slip into fall mode.

Don't get me wrong, autumn is lovely... for about 10 days. After that amount of time, I want my beloved summer back. Not only am I a warm weather slut, but the chilliness of fall simply signals to me that my nemesis, winter, is right around the corner.

I told Chris last week that I am not going to deal with winter this year and he should prepare for us to move further south, possibly making a return to Florida. Once, I lived in Wisconsin. Later, I lived in Minnesota. Now, I can barely tolerate a Washington, DC winter. The funk I find myself in during the winter is not trivial.  I can't run outside because my lungs seize up. I can't go camping because I'd freeze my booty off. The trees become barren and depressing. The weather turns gray. I end up sitting my butt on the couch grumbling about when summer is going to return. 

I realize all of these things are reasons to dislike winter and do not directly deal with the issue at hand: I love summer and I'm about to lose it. This August (although I was only here for two weeks of it) was unusually pleasant, and even downright cool. Summer is slipping through my fingers at a disturbing rate, and the torrential rain we've had over the past couple of weeks hasn't allowed me to frolic in the final days of it like I had hoped.

To prevent me from downright bawling like a baby about the onset of fall, I will focus on the positive and enumerate my favorite things about the season so it doesn't seem as depressing:

Are you ready for some football?!?

1.  The start of football. I know a lot of fans say football is a cold weather sport, but I loved it even in the September heat of Florida. However, there is something to be said about throwing on a heavy jersey and some sweat pants and lounging in front of the TV all Sunday long. I endure all the mindless babbling about the ever-so-long baseball season on ESPN for the majority of the year, hoping to catch a blurb about the upcoming (unfairly short) NFL season. The lockout really had me scared this year because football is the main thing getting me through the fall and long winter. Welcome back, football. I will be lovingly cradling you close to my heart for the next four and a half months.



All beers should strive to be like "the falls."

 2.  Darker beer. This definitely goes well with point number one, but also stands up on its own. Fall beers--harvest brews and Oktoberfests--are my favorites. The summer brews typically fall short in my view, so seeing the seasonal taps change to "the falls" is a glorious occasion. I do also enjoy dark winter beers, but something about the caramelly taste and texture of the fall offerings makes me smile every time. Yes, I even like the oft-debated pumpkin beer. And I'll let you behind the curtain a little bit--I've even come up with a song to extol the praises of fall beer. It's called "It's the Most Wonderful Time for the Beer" and is sung to the American Christmas classic "It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year." Yes, I am a sad, sad individual.

3.  The smell. Although I don't like the look of naked trees after the leaves fall, there's such a wonderful, earthy aroma that comes with it. It's often better than the humid, rotting smell during the heat of summer

Bib and fork not included.

4.  Fall produce. Squash, pumpkins, potatoes, eggplant, mushrooms, cranberries, pomegranates, apples, pears, figs. Mmmmm, just some of the delish delights I love cooking with when the weather turns cool. From savory soups to drool-inducing pies, cooking with fall produce provides such a wonderful comfort food experience. Even better is finding a farm that lets you pick your own produce. I'm also going to put maple syrup in this category, though it's loosely related. Chris' uncle and aunt in Connecticut hook us up with delicious, smoky maple syrup that their neighbor makes. Hopefully we'll get the hook up again this fall. (Hint, hint. Are you reading this, Tom and Mary Jane?)

5.  Cider. You may think this should be under the "fall produce" heading, but I think cider is so phenomenal it deserves its own line. I positively cannot get enough cider. I don't mean the nasty mass produced stuff you find on the grocery store shelves, I mean the hearty, rich type from a good farm (or farmers market).  My family knows a great go-to gift for me is a year-long supply of mulling spices, which I go through with the type of speed typically reserved for spices like salt. You have not enjoyed fall until you've enjoyed my mulled cider.

Hello, lovelies.

6. Fall fashions/boots. I love my warm weather gear, but I think just about everyone looks more svelte in a light sweater than in short shorts. Plus, I positively adore fashion boots and miss wearing them in the summer. I have been sporting tall boots for more than a decade, so you can imagine my glee at the boot explosion in the past few years. Just ask my husband. He claims I have a "boot problem." Personally, I don't see the problem.

One would think all of these things would excite me enough about the onset of fall to accept that summer is ending. One would be incorrect in thinking that. I won't bore you with my extensive list of why summer kicks all other seasons' arses, but just know that nothing even comes close to the glorious days of summer. 

I will begin focusing on the above list as autumn approaches, but in the meantime I'm going to continue to revel in the remnants of summer. And I'm going to keep my fingers crossed that this year summer decides to stick around until November, allows fall to sneak in for 10 days around Thanksgiving, then returns in December.  Hey, a girl can dream, can't she?

Culture War

Ladies and gentlemen! Get ready for a battle royale, a clash of the titans, a fight to end all fights.  In this corner, we have the world superpower--The United States of America!  In the other corner, we have the mythical land to which our beloved author recently traveled--The European Union!  Place your bets now on which contender will rack up the most points and be dubbed the victor this very heated culture war.

Round 1--Monetary Units
European countries have sported largely coin-based currencies for decades. America has tried to adopt a coin culture multiple times, only to have the masses turn up their noses at the idea with a snooty sniff and a roll of the eyes. We love our paper money, and our small change coins are merely afterthoughts.

Stupid coins, stop making my purse heavy.

I have to admit, to carry around all those coins in Europe--€2, €1, €0.50, €0.20, €0.10, €0.05, €0.02, €0.01--is far too much. The commonly used 1 and 2 Euro coins bear a fair amount of heft and weigh down my purse. And is it really necessary to have both a 1 and 2 cent coin? That just seems egregious. I'm sticking with my light American paper money, which prevents me from throwing out my back every time I get change.
Point: USA

Round 2--Restrooms
I'm not a fan of public restrooms as a rule. But if I have to use one, I'm even less of a fan of having to pay. Although I first thought it was mainly just a practice in Paris, apparently many European restrooms still force people to pay to pee.

Granted, these restrooms trump ours in that they do not have vagrants living in them and are typically clean due to employing a bathroom attendant. However, there's a reason American cities started doing away with pay toilets, and even outright banning them, in the 1970s. I would rather hold my breath in a smelly stall than have to fish around in my purse for a stray coin while crossing my legs and doing the pee-pee dance at the entrance.
Point: USA

Round 3--Hygiene
Some European countries have developed less than savory reputations due to the smell of their residents. I have embarked upon all of my overseas experiences with an open mind and have concluded the following:  sometimes stereotypes are in place for a reason.

Countries with cooler climates have definitely fared better on my stink-o-meter, but places with temperatures above approximately 65 degrees tend to produce ripe residents. I just don't understand the widespread aversion to deodorant. A quick swipe of the stick once a day keeps pungent odors at bay. It's very disheartening to see some of the most beautiful people in the world in Portugal, only to be repulsed by the stench when Mr. Incredible Hottie lifts his arm to open a door for you.

This is the only thing a bidet is good for.

And don't get me started on bidets. Look, if those devices actually did their jobs, toilet paper companies would have gone under long ago. Think of it like a car wash. Just spraying the undercarriage with water isn't going to do a whole lot. You need to soap and scrub to get the unseen parts in satisfactory order.
Point: USA

Round 4--Public Transportation
Americans love their cars, and thus dislike public transportation. Europeans have embraced public transportation and make it an art. Their trains are clean and ridiculously on time. Everyone rides the bus, not just degenerates. Walking or riding a bike seems to be the preferred way to travel. Public transportation is so well used that cities spend a lot of money to make it expansive and functional, and it shows. I looked around with mouth agape in every train I was in, and marveled at what a joke DC's Metro is in comparison (obviously if you read my other posts you know I hated the Metro before, but this just firmly cemented my opinion).  Every form of public transportation is cheap, easy, convenient and more eco-friendly than cars.
Point: Europe


Round 5--Tipping
Anyone who dines out with me knows how much I dislike America's tipping culture. A tip used to be a reward for good service, but now has morphed into a compulsory act. Not to mention, amounts of expected tips have risen sharply. In most European countries I have traveled to, tipping is not the norm because it's included in the price of the dining experience. Thus, no extra calculations are necessary, and there's no frustration at feeling guilted into handing over extra money when the service is mediocre.
Point:  Europe


Round 6--Languages
I am a lover of languages and try to learn as many as I can. But I fully realize that in America, I am in the minority. English is king here, and anyone who doesn't speak it is an outcast. I've always admired other countries which teach children multiple languages right away, better preparing them for adventures and work situations later in life. I was utterly amazed at the Dutch and their grasp of the English language. Not only did they speak it beautifully and flawlessly, but they had an incredible knack for the nuances, idioms and humor. Plus, most seemed to speak at least one other language. For all of its boastfulness about education, America desperately needs to step up in this regard.
Point:  Europe


Round 7--Sense of Order

Even a crazy line is better than no line.

For being as organized and nice as they were, I was quite disgruntled at the lack of order the Dutch exhibited. I first noticed this on my honeymoon last year, while staying at an all-inclusive resort in Curacao, which is a Dutch island. The Americans, British, Spanish, and basically everybody other than people from the Netherlands would line up in an orderly fashion to get drinks. The Dutch would saunter up and plop their arms on the bar, expecting service before the queue of 10 others patiently waiting. This attitude prevailed in Amsterdam as well, even to the extent of getting shoved to the side while getting on buses or trying to walk through doors. This is not rocket science, it's just a matter of respect for others.

That brings me to a slightly different, yet related topic--personal space. I know Americans are often considered cold and needy when it comes to personal space. You know what? I'm OK with that. Europeans: don't get all up in my business, don't crowd me, don't reach over me, don't walk so closely that you're stepping on me, don't breathe on me and don't lean on me. Especially when, as previously mentioned, you clearly don't display hygiene that is up to my standards.  Step back, and get in line.
Point:  USA


Round 8--Worldliness
Every time I travel abroad I am amazed at how much other countries know about us and our culture. We don't reciprocate, and don't even pretend to. We are grossly under-educated on the daily doings of other nations, much less an intimate understanding of their governments. I was blown away when a 22-year-old Dutch man rattled off more about Obama's policies, the Tea Party and state governments than the vast majority of American adults I have met. I hardly knew the Dutch even had a government.
Point:  Europe


Tally:  USA--4, Europe--4
Well, I guess it's a dead tie in the culture war, based on my criteria. Clearly, there are pros and cons of living anywhere, whether it's across the street, across the country or on the other side of the world. Much of what we find "normal" is based on what we grew up with, and really there is no truly right answer.

Many, many times I envy certain systems or lifestyles prevalent in other countries.  But until I discover a place that perfectly blends the aspects I love about America with aspects I enjoy about other countries, I'm staying put.  I may never actually find that perfection, and quite frankly, that's fine with me.

Tourist Trouble

At this time of year, I often feel like I'm caught in a classic Bugs Bunny episode. "It's wabbit season." "No, it's duck season!" "No, it's wabbit season!"  It's even worse, folks.  It's tourist season.

Those of you who currently reside in, or previously have resided in, prime tourist destinations can understand my pain. The yearly influx of oblivious, obnoxious individuals is enough to make me long for winter. And you KNOW how I loathe winter.  Of course, when I lived in Miami, winter was prime time for tourists, so I suppose it's really a no win situation.

Granted, some a scant few tourists actually believe in researching the cities they will visit, and also employ manners and courtesy. But isn't it the case that most of us lose sense of ourselves when caught up in the excitement of a trip, and end up being THAT guy once in a while? You know, the stereotypically annoying traveler we all are so happy to see leave, we might even pay for his cab fare to the airport?  This is why people in foreign countries hate us. Are you entitled to a lovely vacation during which you can loaf around to your heart's content? Absolutely. Are you entitled to act like a jackass just because you're on vacation? Absolutely not.

Because at times we could all use a little refresher, here are some simple rules to bear in mind while enjoying time off. Some of these are very DC specific, but most are general enough so you can, and should, use them at any travel destination.

1. Do not take up the entire sidewalk. I don't care if you have 2, 6 or 12 people in your party, spreading out and monopolizing the whole sidewalk is unacceptable.  Remember what your parents told you when you were younger: SHARE.

2. If I'm in a hurry and try to nicely squeeze past you while you're dawdling, do not ask "Hey, where's the fire?" and then proceed to make some snarky comment about people always being in a hurry.  If you don't move out of my way so I can get to work on time, I'LL be on fire with anger.  I can appreciate that you are working at a slower speed while taking time off because I do the same. Unfortunately, we aren't all on your lovely vacation and still do have to work for a living, so please move aside without commenting.

Stinky pits not welcome here.

3. Shower. Please. I understand that you are trying to relax and your hygiene may be relaxed as well. However, our sense of smell is certainly not taking a hiatus and we don't appreciate your funk while pressed against you in the subway or other crowded places.  DC in particular is ridiculously hot and humid in the summer and you, no matter what you may think, are not immune to the bodily changes which occur at such temperatures.  This is especially the case when exerting energy to walk all around town.  Trust me, you'll feel better too once you get the sweat, dirt and smog off of your body.

4. Respect the rules of the subway. Common sense should tell you not to stop on the platform the second you set foot off the train. There are dozens of people behind you, and you blocking the exit doesn't help. The same applies when getting on the train and arriving at the top of the escalator--keep moving.  Once on the train, do not rest your entire body on one of the vertical poles.  Nobody wants to have to squeeze their hand against your sweaty back just to grab hold of the bar.  You are allotted one hand space on the pole, that is all.  And if you value your life, do NOT "escaleft."  I know there's no sign telling you about this rule, so I'm giving you a freebie. The escalators are like those moving walkways in airports--stand on the right and walk on the left.  You may enjoy our subway, but I guarantee it's an imperfect system.  Missing a train means being stranded on the platform for who knows how long.  If I miss a train due to you standing on the left and blocking everyone trying to walk, I cannot be held responsible for any physical harm that may befall you from angry passengers you have made late.  I know the system is not easy to understand.  However, there are many people you can ask for help instead of simply plowing into the subway full steam ahead, only to find you're clueless.

4. If you don't know, please ask. One of my favorite examples of people who should ask for advice/information/directions/mental help/a slap alongside the head goes as follows: I had just left work and a man behind me was telling a group of people (whom I didn't turn around to look at, but from the context of conversation thought they were business partners) that "this vice president guy rides the train every day from where he lives in New York City to Washington DC for work." I thought he must be talking about his company's vice president, and felt sorry for the man for having a 3.5 hour commute each way. I then turned around to discover that it was actually a father telling his whole family about America's vice president. Be proud of me for biting my tongue instead of making this man look like a fool in front of his family. (As a point of clarification, Joe Biden USED to ride the train every day when he was a senator. Since becoming vice president he lives here and no longer makes the 1.5 HOUR commute to and from his home in DELAWARE every day.) Countless ridiculous stories can also be heard about the cherry blossoms, monuments and American history in general.  Do ask questions instead of spouting off glaringly incorrect information to the masses...

5. ...But don't get angry if I don't know either. If you are from a smaller area, you might not realize just how expansive some cities are.  Try as I might, I definitely don't know every road, train line, nook, cranny and fun fact about the area.  I will certainly try my best if you try not to get huffy if I say I don't know.

6.  The volunteers and workers at the museums are not your personal babysitters.  Neither are any of the other people in the city you're visiting.  As a volunteer for the Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History, I see all types of bad behavior.  Running around, screaming, touching exhibits, and basically just a general lack of respect for ANYTHING.  I really do dread volunteering at this time of year because students are in "summer off" mode and parents are frazzled.  But being frazzled does not permit you to deposit your young hellions in my hands-on exhibit and then proceed to disappear.  I can't tell you how many times I have been asked, "I'm just going to walk around a little bit, you can watch them, right?"  Wrong.  They're YOUR kids, I'm there for two reasons:  to make sure they don't destroy the exhibit too badly, and at least TRY to impart some shred of knowledge upon them.  Usually, it's a double fail.

7.  Use volume control.  This applies to subways in particular, but also other public spaces including (but not limited to) restaurants, museums, monuments, etc.  I promise you, nobody else finds your story about "how things are done" in Middle-of-Nowhere, USA nearly as amusing/witty/hilarious/interesting as you.  Nor do we care how tired/thirsty/bored/unimpressed/wannabe drunk/well endowed/horny you are.  (Yes, these are all things I have heard actual tourists loudly talking about, thinking they were cool for making a scene.) Locals recall their first grade teacher's advice and use their inside voices when riding the train and in public, so please do the same.

8.  Yes, everything is more expensive here.  Trust me, we know that and we hate it, so it's not necessary to lecture us for 10 minutes on what a rip off everything is.  All that accomplishes is making me sad that when you return home, you can go out and spend just $10 and have 5 beers, while I am stuck having one for the same price.  Please also keep in mind that nearly all of our world-class museums and countless other attractions are free.  Let's just say it all evens out for you.
   
9.  Try not to drive or ride the train during rush hour.  DC has some of the worst traffic in the country, and adding extra cars full of people who aren't familar with the roads is frustrating.  The same goes for the train.  I've heard many tourists comment about how grossly overcrowded the train is at rush hour.  You'll preserve your own sanity by simply heading out a little later or earlier.

Locals don't wear these. Neither should you.

10.  Nobody, I repeat, NOBODY who lives in a city ever wears a t-shirt highlighting that city.  Rest assured, your "You Don't Know Me" shirt from the Spy Museum does nothing but label you as a tourist, or a homeless person who is grateful for any clothing s/he can get.  Although, if you're worried about the comparison, one sure way to be dubbed "tourist" instead of "homeless" is to get everyone in your group matching tees.  Oh wait, you already did that.  Please remember that being labeled as a tourist makes you a target for crime.  I'd recommend saving that big, bad "FBI" or "I heart DC" shirt you picked up from a street vendor or tourist attraction until you get home.

I think the common thread in all of these guidelines is the following: If you wouldn't do it in your own home, please don't do it on vacation.  We really do welcome well behaved tourists to explore our cities and experience all they have to offer.  But losing all elements of sense and civility on vacation is not something to strive for.

I know I previously wrote a blog about not being judgmental.  Please note I am not trying to judge frivolous things like wearing short shorts, pulled up dark socks, sandals and a fanny pack.  I'm suggesting consideration to make life easier for everyone.  Other locals will be far harsher with you than I am, so I'm giving you fair warning about what not to do as a visitor.  Should you choose not to follow these guidelines, that's your business.  But don't be surprised if your picture ends up on the internet as an example of "Don't Be This Guy"... or in another blog post.

What a Waste

As an American, I appear to have a love/hate relationship with waste.  I probably waste more time/money/goods than I think, but I hate it when I recognize it.  Particularly problematic for me is food waste.  This is probably what leads to my consistent overeating--the immense guilt I feel at throwing away valuable, perfectly good food.

Much to my chagrin, I experienced a glaring example of waste at work today.  When I entered the lunchroom this morning to make some coffee, the vending machine man was restocking.  I smiled, turned to make my coffee, and thought nothing of it.  While I waited for my java, I looked around the room, and just happened to glance into the giant garbage can right below the coffee makers.  It looked like a large number of used individual chip bags, so I figured maybe some department had to stay late the previous night and had ordered sandwiches and chips for the employees. 

Those Cheetos were calling to me.

But then I realized the bags were full.  Having not had my morning coffee yet, it took a while for the gears to start turning, but I figured out that the vending machine man had thrown out all these bags, probably because they had "expired."  If I were in a more lucid state of mind at 7:15am, perhaps after a cup of coffee, I probably would have inquired as to why the man threw out all of those instead of giving them away, or some other less wasteful alternative.

I thought about it at my desk a lot when I should have been doing work.  My conclusion was that if he left them out for our employees to enjoy, nobody would ever end up buying from that machine--they would just wait until switch out day and grab the free goodies.  But why not instead take them somewhere offsite to sell for discounted prices, or even donate them to food banks?  At the very least, hand out the perfectly good snacks to the swarms of homeless people who loiter in the Union Station area just one block away.

Still shirking actual work, I proceeded to surf the web to find out what kinds of rules might prohibit a vendor from giving away expired goods.  I consider this one of my most fruitful learning experiences in some time, because what I found truly surprised me: there is no federally required dating for foods, except for baby formula and some baby foods.  Do note though, that 20 states require some sort of food labeling.

That baffled me, considering the plethora of foods and beverages sporting dates.  Reading further, the USDA website explained that there's confusion as to the meanings of labels, due to the wide variety found on consumable products.  Think of all the different variations of expiration dates: "Use by", "Freshest if used by", "Sell by", and "Best by" just to name a few.  Each of these non-regulated phrases means something different in the food industry.  The words also mean different things to different consumers.  In theory, that could render all the dates we see on packaging as arbitrary.  The one thing that's widely agreed on though, is that nearly all goods can still be consumed after their magical dates.

This made me want to check out what the bags of munchies the vending machine man threw out had printed on them.  I mean, c'mon, that processed stuff could possibly withstand the nuclear holocaust.  Do you mean to tell me that Cheetos should be tossed out as readily as spoiled milk? (I chose to single out Cheetos because it's my one true junk food weakness, so I have to consciously avoid having them in my house.  Plus, I saw them most prominently in the trash and had to fight the urge to snatch up all the bags and devour them.)

Having that not-so-fresh feeling.

A coworker grabbed the discarded snacks when I told him about what I saw, so I looked at a bag.   I laughed when I noticed that sure enough, the date was not actually an "expiration", but rather a "guaranteed fresh by."  So that means potentially thousands of bags of these snacks are tossed every day because they are no longer "guaranteed fresh"?  What makes these preservative-laden, still-perfectly-fresh munchies suddenly non-edible overnight?  And back to the original question:  why did the vendor throw them out instead of donating them?

I figured there might be some law preventing donations of expired items, so I investigated further.  It turns out, not only is there not such a federal law, there is a federal law (The Bill Emerson Good Samaritan Food Donation Act) encouraging donations.  In fact, one portion of the EPA website lists among the reasons for food donation by vendors "expired coupons or code dates," later explaining that the Good Samaritan Act also protects vendors from much liability if one of their donated goods later sickens someone.  So with the protections and tax benefits, donation would seem like a no-brainer, right?  Again, the regulations vary by state.  However, I was hard-pressed to find states which outright banned the donation of foods which had passed a recommended expiration date. 

I know it's not always easy to read all the legal-eze involved in the donation process, particularly in a touchy area such as food or products that could affect a person's health.  But personally, if I owned a business I would do everything in my power to ensure I was reducing my waste by finding legal means to donate products instead of discarding them.  To me, it would be worth all the time and effort.  I also know that, to a certain extent, the American way often involves taking the easy way out.  I would love to see more businesses and vendors bucking this unfortunate American trend, and working to help the less fortunate, while cutting down on landfill clutter at the same time.

Let me know what you think in my poll on the left.  If you have other views or alternative ideas for what can be done about these wasteful situations, leave them in my comments section below this post.

Update: 7 people voted in the poll.  5 said the company should have donated the snacks, 1 believed the snacks should be thrown out, and 1 "other" vote did not specify what to do with the snacks.  Thanks for voting!