In Sickness and In Health

I awoke in the middle of the night and glanced at the clock: 3AM. I was staying in a hotel room in Brooklyn, as we were working on a project with long hours. We had knocked off at 10PM or so the night before and had to be back at 6AM. Tired was going to be table stakes for all of the team, so I would hardly be alone with that feeling. What upped the ante for me was the realization as I turned over that my nose was stuffed and my throat was scratchy. Wishing it was just a bad dream and not anything else, I closed my eyes and hoped by morning it would merely be that.

In times gone by that situation would have been an inconvenience, but not a deal breaker. We have all likely gone to school or work or on about our day not feeling our best. We tuck an extra tissue or two into our pockets, grab a few cough drops, and swap out coffee for hot tea with lemon and honey. But the thought of not showing up never really entered the equation. We might annoy a few of our associates with some hacking, or reduce our group activities, but unless things got worse we would just tough it out.

But that calculus has changed.

Our experiences over the last few years has revised our perspective on what constitutes being sick. Now every slight pain or cough or feeling of malaise is not treated as an isolated incident but viewed in the context of a global pandemic. To be sure, vaccines have lessened the danger of a single infection being life threatening. But while they have minimized the severity in most cases, the virus itself remains highly infectious and transmissible. And having lived through a period when many who did get sick got very sick or even died, our Spidey-sense of potential danger is set to a more sensitive trigger point. In essence, the former default of innocent as opposed to guilty has been flipped on its head. Instead of "just suck it up and stop complaining, you'll feel better tomorrow" the first thought on any random twinge is "Uh Oh. I wonder if this is it. I had better take a test." 

When I woke up that next morning, my throat was better but my head was all clogged. I was pretty sure it was just a cold; my on-site workstation was under a giant noisy air handler that had probably last been cleaned when Brooklyn wasn't trendy. And in all of the reports about the virus, sneezing was not a symptom that made the headlines. But as we're working on variant B37-v-53MOUSE or something like that, who knows what the defining marker is for this one? I wouldn't be surprised at some point to find out that my love of Reese's was an early warning sign of infection. In that context, a snootful couldn't just be ignored.

Unfortunately, no test was at easily at hand. And it's not like I felt so bad as to be unable to work, nor that my symptoms were so egregious that people would run when they saw me. A few remarked on my sniffles with equal doses of symphony and alarm, but mostly took it in stride. And so I kept going, keeping my distance from folks as much as I could, putting my focus into the project as opposed to my nose, and just kept on keeping on. 

When all was concluded successfully at the end of the day and I could relax, I started to feel a little worse; whether it was just the adrenaline rush wearing off, or an actual worsening of my condition I couldn't tell. But as I got on the subway I dug a mask out of my bag, and when I got home, kept my distance from my wife. I went upstairs and grabbed a test from the closet and went through the by now usual motions. I wandered around for the 20 minutes it took to develop, and walked back into the bathroom, knowing I wouldn't be surprised by either possible result. But the news was good: just one blue control line, no telltale red marker. With apologies to Freud, in this case a cold was indeed just a cold. But that's this time. Next time? Who knows anymore.

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Marc Wollin of Bedford is feeling better, thank you. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.

In Animal News

For the past several months the news has been dominated by all things election. We have been bombarded with endless stories about voting, intra-party fighting, swing states, and every now and again when they run out of nerdy angles, actual issues. But that has come at a cost: we've neglected almost every other aspect of our world. That's not to say that there hasn't been news in other areas. Rather, it is so buried below the fold on page 32 that it may as well not exist. Go ahead and play editor: given the chance to allocate precious column inches to a report about a red-state pro-life candidate who pushes his ex-girlfriend to get an abortion or a story about the discovery of the first-ever colony of fire ants in France, which would you pick?

Speaking of those ants (which are a real thing: considered one of the world's most invasive species, they appeared in Toulon near the French Riviera, only the second sighting in Europe), the animal world has been choc-a-bloc full of developments. Perhaps not as consequential as which party holds the Senate or if Wisconsin succumbs to one party rule, they are stories worth noting. In some cases, such as the aforementioned insect, there is a tie to a wider theme, in that case the spread of climate change. In others, it expands our knowledge of the organisms with whom we share a planet. And in others, it's just, well, funny.

Let's start in the ocean. Off of Portugal reports came in of what is believed to be the heaviest bony fish every discovered. The giant sunfish weighed over 6000 pounds and was over 10 feet long. Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, scientists exploring 2 new marine parks off Australia came across a variety of up-till-now never seen creatures. They include a blind cusk eel with see-thru skin, the tripod spiderfish with stilt-like fins that enable it stand above the ocean floor and wait for unsuspecting prey to walk beneath, and an adorable batfish, which looks like a ravioli with legs and a tiny face that looks like a puppy. 

Back on dry land there is the report of the death of Dida, Africa's best-known female "Big Tusker." That designation is given to elephants whose tusks are so long that they scrape the ground. It is estimated there are only 25 such animals in the world, and Dida was the oldest at an estimated 60 to 65 years of age. And going from large to small, the National Park Service in the US is cautioning individuals from catching and licking Sonoran Desert Toads. Seems the toads secrete a toxin that if smoked causes the user to experience euphoria and hallucinations. That's attributed to a chemical found in the toxin, bufotenine, which is illegal in California. However, in Arizona it is OK to capture up to 10 toads with the proper license. As for the licking vs. smoking, well, who knows? More likely is that it will cause sickness or death as opposed to a prophetic vision, though that could account for some the election shenanigans that are going on in that state.

And then there's the gloomy octopus. A recent study shows that it has a habit that, while not uncommon in humans, is much rarer in the animal kingdom. When another octopus gets too close or in some way annoys its neighbor, it picks up a bunch of silt and sand and throws it at the offender. Think of a third grader who get irritated when a playmate comes too close to her Cheerios. Video also shows that the octopus will occasionally pick up a shell and throw it, but it's unclear if it's actually using it as a weapon, or it's just a demonstration of displeasure. Scientists are now going back over old file footage to see if they see other human-like aggressive behaviors, such as the octopus sending mean tweets.

Considering that animals outnumber humans by 40 to 1, it would make sense to pay a little more attention to them. But then again, plants outnumber both of us together by 225 times. So forget stories about cats with hats and dogs that dance. Turns out that bananas descend from a wild version 7000 years ago that was full of seeds. Maybe next week news about all thing green and yellow?

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Marc Wollin of Bedford likes dogs more than cats. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.

Take a (Middle) Seat

Death and taxes. Not only are they the only sure things, they are perhaps the only things that we all hate. But beyond that? In today's world virtually everything has its proponents. Almost nothing cuts across every fault line out there - class, ethnic, racial, social, religious, economic, political, geography, age and on and on – to unite us all in revulsion, or at least to a point where most find it even mildly distasteful. 

Food? One person's delicacy makes another want to throw up, be it the insides of the animal, the outsides of the plant or the foodstuff itself. Going to the dentist? For most a trip to be avoided, but others are proud of their teeth and gladly make the time to keep up their pearly whites. Clothing? While you might hate a style or particular piece of attire, others find it the perfect accessory and wouldn't dream of leaving home without it. As for people, some want nothing to do with Trump, others with Biden, others with Taylor Swift, while plenty feel the opposite way. Even Vladimir Putin has his admirers. 

There seems to be just one thing we can rally around that we all hate, would rather pick an alternative, would prefer to take any other option. Not Brussel sprouts, not ankle socks, not tan lines, not even third world dictators. No, if you ask your barber or your banker, your grandmother or your greengrocer, your deep red uncle or your dark blue cousin, all will confess to hating middle seats on airplanes.

Perhaps hate is too strong a word. That's because we all will sit there willingly for a variety of reasons. It might be because we want to be a with a companion or child, or because we have the option of catching an earlier flight vs. hanging around the airport for a few more hours. But given the chance to change to a window or an aisle, most would take it. In fact, an airline agent could only recall one instance where a person declined the switch, and that was because the passenger had OCD and had to sit where his ticket told him to. Mind you, he wasn't happy to sit there, and even conceded it wasn't his first choice, but it fit in with the way he viewed the world and so that was that.

A few years ago Frontier Airlines tried to redesign their cabins to make the middle more attractive, When they switched to a new seat design with higher density but thinner cushioning, it gave them a little more wiggle room side to side. Rather than increasing each of the seats a little, they put it all in the center. So windows and aisles were 18 inches wide, while the middle was a little over 19 inches edge to edge. No, it didn't lead to a run to the center, but if you do get stuck there, feel free to spread out and enjoy.

Now Virgin Australia is trying a different tack. They looked at other successful campaigns to get people to do things they might prefer not to do, like getting flu shots or turning in firearms, and found that monetary awards helped. And so the company established a lottery for those who get stuck in the middle. If you enroll in their frequent flyer program and you wind up in the center, either voluntarily or involuntarily, your name goes into a hat. Then every week from now till April of next year they will pick a winner. Prizes vary in the $145,000 pot, and include a full day helicopter pub crawl including return flights to Darwin, and a two-night holiday in Cairns including flights, accommodation and a bungee jump. Also in the rotation are a million frequent flyer points, Caribbean cruises and custom artwork by an Australian artist.

The big question is will it help to fill those open seats as opposed to folks waiting for the next flight. Unlikely, but if you do win it might take some of the sting off the flying experience. In the meantime, should you wind up in that seat, just take a deep breath, plug in your earbuds, call up that old Stealers Wheel song and sing along (to yourself, of course): "Clowns to the left of me/Jokers to the right/Here I am/Stuck in the middle with you."

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Marc Wollin of Bedford always takes an aisle seat. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.

Real Speak

The concept dates back to the ancient Greeks. Called "parrhesia," it means "to speak everything" and by extension "to speak freely" or "to speak boldly." Other terms come to mind; candid, frank or blunt are but a few, but they carry a certain negative connotation. Perhaps the best equivalent is the phrase that became associated with President Harry Truman: plain speaking.

In this day and age that kind of talk is in short supply. We have become conditioned to automatically discount 90% of what we hear as hype, misinformation, selective telling, hyperbole, a sales pitch and on and on. It means that unless it’s your spouse or best friend or a child of less than 5, you take it as table stakes that the person you are talking with is bending the truth by at least half.

So when someone speaks plainly and directly, it’s a welcome development. In fact, it becomes a serendipitous moment that surprises and delights for two reasons. First, you get the information that you want, unadorned by any baggage or ulterior motive. And second, very often the person delivering the message recognizes that what they are doing is so unusual in the context of what we were expecting that they do so with a smile or a self depreciating delivery. It’s like a spontaneous stand-up act: Take my plain speaking, please.

Three times it happened to me within a week The first came early one morning at the airport. I was heading towards my gate, and decided to stop at the rest room. Just outside stood a worker with his cleaning cart. As I approached he bowed slightly to me and gestured as if he were the doorman at a four-star hotel: “Sir, welcome to the smallest but cleanest bathroom in the airport. I just finished cleaning it, and you are welcome to use it.” He grinned broadly as did I. I entered and used the facilities. When I came out he was still standing there, so I stuck out my hand out to shake his. He smiled: “I wasn’t lying, was I?” I assured him he was not: it was both small and sparkling. I thanked him for his efforts, and he thanked me for my response.

It was just two hours or so later that the next instance occurred. It was a routine flight, unremarkable in every aspect. When it was time to land, the steward came over the PA with the usually announcements capped by this: “For your safety, please take a moment to insure that your seat back is fully upright. You’ll know if it’s up if it’s in the most uncomfortable position possible. Sorry, but that’s just how they designed it.” As we exited, I stopped and complimented him on his very upfront instructions. He laughed and told me that ever since he started doing it that way he found more people complied than not. A little honesty went a long way. 

The last was but 2 days later. The subway car I was riding that early morning was moderately crowded. The man in front of me had on earbuds and a mask, and was obviously an experienced rider from his stance and demeanor. I rudely starting yawning and forgot to cover my face. “Man!,” he said at a bit more than a whisper, “Cover your mouth!” I quickly brought my arm up and tried to stifle my faux pas. I apologized profusely, then looked away sheepishly. We stood apart for several minutes as the train continued. As we came into the next station, he turned towards me . “Sorry,” he said. “Pet peeve.” I assured him he had nothing to apologize for, that I was at fault. He very kindly said he understood, we were all tired, and wished me a good day as I did him.

In each case humans were, well, human. They said things as plainly as possible, with a smile on their face and light touch to their voice. Even when I was in the wrong and got called out, it started and ended there with no residual issues. Once it’s a pleasant distraction. Twice, and you wonder if there’s something in the air. But three times? Makes you wonder if there is hope for humanity. After all, these people didn’t speak truth to power. They just spoke the truth to me.

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Marc Wollin of Bedford tries to be honest and open. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.