City of Sunlight

In Edmonton's perennial search for a new slogan, I think it should consider "City of Sunlight." What does one seek in a slogan? To define the best a city has to offer; to advertise one of its more widely renowned characteristics. Well, Edmonton has a lot of sunlight to offer. And by a lot, I mean a hell of a lot. More than most other cities in North America. (I learned that on Wikipedia so it must be true!) Granted, a lot of our sunlight is accompanied by glacial temperatures. But whatever!

This morning, the sunlight is accompanied by a promising warm tinge to the air. Summer is definitely on its way.

That's the bright note on which I begin my post. Now for the whinging.

Yesterday, my girlfriend and I went to Julio's Barrio for some celebratory drinks. She had finished her exams. On our way in, a drunk girl was on her way out. She was literally shouting at her friends. Not because she was angry. Not because anyone's dress had caught on fire. Not for any real reason. No, she was shouting because she was drunk and wanted to shout.

One of the most important lessons we're supposed to learn when young is to consider the effects of our actions on others. i.e. don't lick your knife and then stick it in the butter; don't kick someone else's chair; don't pick your nose, etc.

These lessons, however, appear to have been long forgotten by a good number of the residents of our well-lighted city. Just Monday, at Interpol, I had to listen to a girl's angry defense of her friends' right to "dance," even though said "dancing" had elicited irritation from others. The problem with her defence was that it was completely spurious. For one, moshing is not dancing. Smashing into people and risking broken lips and noses cannot be called an art form. Also, nobody in the audience appreciated the "dancing."

Their "fun" came at the expense of everyone else's fun. Hence, it's a type of fun that is self-negating.

I'm also reminded of people's bubble-like existences almost every time I go to the gym. Aside from the steroid-crazed eyes of the jocks as they stare me down, there is the ever-present annoyance of the room that I will call the "abs" room. This is a small room with mats on the floor where people can stretch and do abdominal exercises. It's become an important room to me because I have developed chronic back problems that require a full regimen of embarassing contortions to ameliorate. In any event, it's one of those rooms where every voice stands out like a church bell on a quiet Sunday morning. If, say, three young women or men enter having a lively conversation, it can be deafening.

The correct etiquette, to my mind, for such an environment, is to bring your volume level down. But that's not what happens. The braying and whinnying continues. You can see the expressions of annoyance on the faces of the other patrons. But that is no deterrence to the loud-talkers.

Some days, to live in the city, is to live in a state of near-perpetual irritation.

I believe that a good deal of Edmontonians' poor social graces is a result of city planning that does such a poor job of encouraging people to mix together. People are cocooned in their homes and cars for so much of the time that the presence of the "other" confuses, bewilders or even angers them.

In an incident of road rage in Edmonton the other day, a 20 year old man and his 17 year old girlfriend got out of their car and stabbed another motorist. I have just reviewed the Edmonton Journal article about the incident. It's truly bizarre. The initial provocation appears to be that someone was cut off by a truck.

We increasingly settle our differences with shouting, punching, stabbing, or shooting in this city. While incidents of this kind happen in all big cities, that's no reason not to lament their occurrence here, and wonder if things could somehow be different.

We'll never get rid of the isolated incidents of total lunacy, but I can't help but think that when your city looks like a barnyard, people will tend more toward the animalistic extremes of behaviour. Even if the barnyard is basking in the sun.