Welcome back to Denmark
It’s 1:26 AM and we’re home on a Friday night. I would’ve thought that 1:26 AM would be a fine time to be at home, all hygge and happy, and yet for our neighbors one floor down, there seems to be something distasteful about a quiet night at this hour. And so I enjoy what appears to be a mix of polka, Louis Armstrong, and the voices of alcohol-lubed Danish youth creeping through the floorboards.
Now they’re laughing. I know it would take a particularly virulent kind of crank to get mad at other people for laughter, but I think laughter has to be one of the least pleasant things when you’re not in on the joke. There’s nothing like hearing a group of people at the table next to you in your quirky little coffeehouse cracking up to make you realize just how joyless your life is, and how much duller your companions are by comparison. Make no mistake: laughter, music, and good times are all fine things, as long as you are the direct cause of each of them.
Surely these strangers in apartment 104 don’t know me. And surely they don’t mean to have a good time at my expense. And they almost certainly aren’t partying extra loud just to remind me that I’m inside typing on a laptop with no working Internet and that I’m much worse off than they are because I have no such raucous party to go to. But I’ll be damned if it doesn’t seem that way.
There’s nothing like a holiday fast approaching to bring out delightfully dormant insecurities. It’s because most of the time, we have no real idea what we’re supposed to be doing. I mean, how does one properly spend a weekend? Any number of answers could be ther right one. Movies, sleeping, partying, taco trucks… all excellent possibilities. But with holidays, there really is a right answer. You’re supposed to celebrate the holiday. And you’re supposed to celebrate in a fairly specific way as well. Halloween, I’m told has something to do with eating unhealthy things in unhealthy quantities and people. Thanksgiving? Basically the same thing. I would say, in fact, most holidays involve the consumption of calories and social relationships to the point of excess. We have this overflow once a year and it sustains us. We feed off of the overkill for the next 12 months, or at least until the next candy-based holiday.
But without a real Halloween, well, it’s strange. It reminds me of going camping without a watch. You end up feeling adrift in time with no good way to mark the passage of another day. Sure, you know that there was night and now the sun’s back in the sky, but other than that vaguery, you’re basically a pre-gregorian ape-man, describing time in shrugs and hand wiggles. I’ve been told it’s October, but without the eye-drowning flurry of black and orange, I simply won’t believe it.
I saw one jack-o-lantern. One. We live next to an elementary school and I don’t even want to tell you how few ghost cut-outs were taped to the window. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.
It’s funny, because you don’t realize how much you lean on these traditions until they’re gone. Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t trade my Danish hotdog stands and excellent bike lanes for anything, but if they’re not going to do Halloween properly, I at least want a good night's sleep, something that the Shot Through the Heart aficionados down in 104 don’t seem to understand.
I’m not saying that they can’t have fun, I’m just saying that they can’t have more fun than me. Which, I think, is totally reasonable any time of the year.
Now they’re laughing. I know it would take a particularly virulent kind of crank to get mad at other people for laughter, but I think laughter has to be one of the least pleasant things when you’re not in on the joke. There’s nothing like hearing a group of people at the table next to you in your quirky little coffeehouse cracking up to make you realize just how joyless your life is, and how much duller your companions are by comparison. Make no mistake: laughter, music, and good times are all fine things, as long as you are the direct cause of each of them.
Surely these strangers in apartment 104 don’t know me. And surely they don’t mean to have a good time at my expense. And they almost certainly aren’t partying extra loud just to remind me that I’m inside typing on a laptop with no working Internet and that I’m much worse off than they are because I have no such raucous party to go to. But I’ll be damned if it doesn’t seem that way.
There’s nothing like a holiday fast approaching to bring out delightfully dormant insecurities. It’s because most of the time, we have no real idea what we’re supposed to be doing. I mean, how does one properly spend a weekend? Any number of answers could be ther right one. Movies, sleeping, partying, taco trucks… all excellent possibilities. But with holidays, there really is a right answer. You’re supposed to celebrate the holiday. And you’re supposed to celebrate in a fairly specific way as well. Halloween, I’m told has something to do with eating unhealthy things in unhealthy quantities and people. Thanksgiving? Basically the same thing. I would say, in fact, most holidays involve the consumption of calories and social relationships to the point of excess. We have this overflow once a year and it sustains us. We feed off of the overkill for the next 12 months, or at least until the next candy-based holiday.
But without a real Halloween, well, it’s strange. It reminds me of going camping without a watch. You end up feeling adrift in time with no good way to mark the passage of another day. Sure, you know that there was night and now the sun’s back in the sky, but other than that vaguery, you’re basically a pre-gregorian ape-man, describing time in shrugs and hand wiggles. I’ve been told it’s October, but without the eye-drowning flurry of black and orange, I simply won’t believe it.
I saw one jack-o-lantern. One. We live next to an elementary school and I don’t even want to tell you how few ghost cut-outs were taped to the window. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.
It’s funny, because you don’t realize how much you lean on these traditions until they’re gone. Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t trade my Danish hotdog stands and excellent bike lanes for anything, but if they’re not going to do Halloween properly, I at least want a good night's sleep, something that the Shot Through the Heart aficionados down in 104 don’t seem to understand.
I’m not saying that they can’t have fun, I’m just saying that they can’t have more fun than me. Which, I think, is totally reasonable any time of the year.
Comments