Women in general act more hospitably than men when it comes to sidewalk encounters of me and my unicycle. Whereas single men tend to ignore me or to pretend I don't exist, single women are generally more likely to smile. But men and women with children are a whole nother matter.
I attribute this to the way our society has become so child-centric. Perhaps this is due in part to the fact many more women work outside of the home, so when they're with their kids, they let the kids run the show more than moms did a generation ago. Dads have even less of a clue about parenting skills than their wives. And then there is our general decline in acceptable outdoor behavior.
When I started riding in 1980, kids might point to me, and I might hear the word 'unicycle' as I rode by, but the entire affair was on the QT. I was pointed out, but it was done in a relatively classy way. Nowadays, kids shout, "Look, Mom, a guy on a one-wheeler!" and the parents, rather than admonishing junior about pointing at strangers, merely say, "That's called a unicycle." Everything's a friggin' "teachable moment" except that very few parents teach their kids about manners.
Sometimes the parent notices me before the kid does. Then I hear, "Look, Persimmon, see the man on the unicycle?" while Mom or Dad swivels the stroller around so that the 18-month-old can get a better look. I'm not bitter but I do find this funny. I mean, I don't even remember the most important event of the first three years of my life -- the Apollo moon landing -- and these parents act as if their diapered offspring are going to be impressed (and impressed upon) by a 5-second encounter with someone on a funny bicycle.
By far the oddest behavior I've seen came from a woman I passed last year. She was taking Buster for a walk when I rode by. She picked him up, tilted him in my direction, and cooed, "Look, Buster, a man on a one-wheeler." Buster wasn't impressed. He licked her face and then tugged on his leash. Buster was a pug.
Monday, June 4, 2007
Friday, June 1, 2007
Reaction File: Rustic Types
Young men driving trucks are a tricky group to categorize. Some of them are perfectly kind and quiet. They see me and might find me a bit odd, or even a lot odd, but they tend to behave respectfully. But some of them are hicks. Hicks, it turns out, behave a lot like middle- and high- school kids in urban settings. That's not saying a lot about those kids, and it's saying even less about hicks.
This behavior is totally understandable and even predictable. Like kids in urban high schools, hicks are fairly low on the totem pole. Presumably they don't have a lot of self-confidence, and they have even less self-restraint.
What's really interesting about hicks is that they are the one group, other than drunks and other fringe members of society, who will make negative comments even when not in a group. Urban high-school kids might mumble something under their breaths as I go by, but the hick will go as far as to yell 'Faggot' or some other disparaging remark. I can only speculate that this is because unlike high schoolers, hicks know that they can kick my ass or just drive away in their gas-guzzling truck. Or both.
I'm glad that I haven't come across too many hicks.
This behavior is totally understandable and even predictable. Like kids in urban high schools, hicks are fairly low on the totem pole. Presumably they don't have a lot of self-confidence, and they have even less self-restraint.
What's really interesting about hicks is that they are the one group, other than drunks and other fringe members of society, who will make negative comments even when not in a group. Urban high-school kids might mumble something under their breaths as I go by, but the hick will go as far as to yell 'Faggot' or some other disparaging remark. I can only speculate that this is because unlike high schoolers, hicks know that they can kick my ass or just drive away in their gas-guzzling truck. Or both.
I'm glad that I haven't come across too many hicks.
Reaction File: Hippies
Peace Signs and Smiles, with a Drop of Righteousness
It's hard to classify someone as a hippy, becuase even people in suits might be hippies at heart (especially if they're sporting bushy facial hair). Let me define hippy as anyone who's able to make a living while dressed in something other than a uniform and who doesn't smoke or take taxis. It's more nuanced than that, but essentially those attributes probably capture a vast majority of liberal, Ben-and-Jerry eating, organic-food-market shopping tree huggers (like me).
On the one hand, hippies really appreciate the unconventional. So when they see me coming, they usually smile and often give me a thumbs-up or some other positive sign, even a nice comment. They are never unclever, so I don't have to worry about lame comments or circus music. On the other hand, hippies are more righteous than many other people. They sometimes feel that unicycles, like bicycles, don't belong on the sidewalk, and being righteous folks, they aren't afraid to speak up. So I sometimes get comments from perfectly nice-looking people about how I shouldn't be riding on the sidewalk. The comments are usually delivered quite drily and without anger. Unfortunately, they still rankle me because they're wrong on two counts: I'm not reckless or dangerous (which they can't tell, I realize), and there is no law against riding a uni on the sidewalks of NYC (which they don't know because, sadly, they don't know everything). So hippies, here is what I have to say: Thanks for your support, and keep the comments coming, as long as they're positive. Otherwise, I respectfully ask that you shut up.
Since moving to New Paltz, I've noticed that I get a lot more positive feedback on the sidewalks, on average, than I do in Manhattan or Brooklyn. New Paltz is known for its abundance of hippies, so it's generally a pleasure to ride thru the Town. But New Paltz also has a fair share of rustic types, so it's not all fun and games. More on that soon.
It's hard to classify someone as a hippy, becuase even people in suits might be hippies at heart (especially if they're sporting bushy facial hair). Let me define hippy as anyone who's able to make a living while dressed in something other than a uniform and who doesn't smoke or take taxis. It's more nuanced than that, but essentially those attributes probably capture a vast majority of liberal, Ben-and-Jerry eating, organic-food-market shopping tree huggers (like me).
On the one hand, hippies really appreciate the unconventional. So when they see me coming, they usually smile and often give me a thumbs-up or some other positive sign, even a nice comment. They are never unclever, so I don't have to worry about lame comments or circus music. On the other hand, hippies are more righteous than many other people. They sometimes feel that unicycles, like bicycles, don't belong on the sidewalk, and being righteous folks, they aren't afraid to speak up. So I sometimes get comments from perfectly nice-looking people about how I shouldn't be riding on the sidewalk. The comments are usually delivered quite drily and without anger. Unfortunately, they still rankle me because they're wrong on two counts: I'm not reckless or dangerous (which they can't tell, I realize), and there is no law against riding a uni on the sidewalks of NYC (which they don't know because, sadly, they don't know everything). So hippies, here is what I have to say: Thanks for your support, and keep the comments coming, as long as they're positive. Otherwise, I respectfully ask that you shut up.
Since moving to New Paltz, I've noticed that I get a lot more positive feedback on the sidewalks, on average, than I do in Manhattan or Brooklyn. New Paltz is known for its abundance of hippies, so it's generally a pleasure to ride thru the Town. But New Paltz also has a fair share of rustic types, so it's not all fun and games. More on that soon.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Reaction File: Yuppies
The Invisible Man
I have ridden along Fifth Avenue and Madison Avenue long enough to know that when I'm in Yuppie country, I'm invisible. The streets may be crowded, but these people are not going to acknowledge me for several reasons. For one thing, they are already distracted by their cell phones, Blackberrys, and those weird things that guys wear in their ears so that they don't need to be bothered holding a handset to their cheeks. With all of this technology and networking going on, they can't spare any concentration on something so bizarre as a unicylist.
The other factor is that they need to appear cool. These are not the people to give me a thumbs up (or even a thumbs down). They walk right by me as if they see unicycles on a daily basis, perhaps at the office. This behavior is true of yuppie men regardless of location: In their natural habitat (the financial center) or out (like if they're on their way to work), young men in suits will never, ever make eye contact with me for more than a fraction of a second and will never smile in my direction. And they will certainly not crane their heads to prolong their view of me.
The behavior of yuppie females is a bit different. They will rarely smile (less than 5% of the time, I'd guess) and will never say anything, but they often stare. In addition, they will frequently open their eyes wider while not moving their lips or even their eyebrows, creating a somewhat distutbing picture, compounded by the fact that, like their male counterparts, they keep their head posture unchanged. The effect is as tho they have just had an important thought.
No one appears to see me while I glide, faster than normal, thru their world. The overall effect is quite like the scenes in The Matrix when the hero is practicing different reality-bending techniques. He moves, unnoticed, thru the irreal world of the people plugged into the computer. I am Neo.
I have ridden along Fifth Avenue and Madison Avenue long enough to know that when I'm in Yuppie country, I'm invisible. The streets may be crowded, but these people are not going to acknowledge me for several reasons. For one thing, they are already distracted by their cell phones, Blackberrys, and those weird things that guys wear in their ears so that they don't need to be bothered holding a handset to their cheeks. With all of this technology and networking going on, they can't spare any concentration on something so bizarre as a unicylist.
The other factor is that they need to appear cool. These are not the people to give me a thumbs up (or even a thumbs down). They walk right by me as if they see unicycles on a daily basis, perhaps at the office. This behavior is true of yuppie men regardless of location: In their natural habitat (the financial center) or out (like if they're on their way to work), young men in suits will never, ever make eye contact with me for more than a fraction of a second and will never smile in my direction. And they will certainly not crane their heads to prolong their view of me.
The behavior of yuppie females is a bit different. They will rarely smile (less than 5% of the time, I'd guess) and will never say anything, but they often stare. In addition, they will frequently open their eyes wider while not moving their lips or even their eyebrows, creating a somewhat distutbing picture, compounded by the fact that, like their male counterparts, they keep their head posture unchanged. The effect is as tho they have just had an important thought.
No one appears to see me while I glide, faster than normal, thru their world. The overall effect is quite like the scenes in The Matrix when the hero is practicing different reality-bending techniques. He moves, unnoticed, thru the irreal world of the people plugged into the computer. I am Neo.
Unicycles and Wheelchairs
There is a suprising connection between unicycles and wheelchairs. In both cases, you wheel yourself around the city sidewalks at a different height than most adults. You have to learn to navigate around certain obstacles, especially other people. You travel at a different speed than most walkers, usually faster. Wheelchair-riders, however, are almost never jeered. This is one way that unicycling is different. Imagine if everywhere you went, people pointed to you, made comments to you (or about you), or started singing a song associated with what you were doing (is there one about wheelchairs? I hope not!). Even worse, what if most people pretended you weren't there. Well, that's one way in which unicycling and wheelchairing are the same.
In many ways, riding a unicycle is the flip-side to riding a wheelchair. It's the healthy version, the one that is made by choice rather than by unfortunate circumstances -- only a weirdo would want to ride all around in a wheelchair, even for a day; presumably, only a weirdo would choose to ride a unicycle everyday. Every time I ride thru city Manhattan, I am the recipient of pointing, commenting, laughing, singing, invisibility.
Like wheelchairs, unicycles represent a different method of locomotion. On city streets and sidewalks, wheelchairs are fairly uncommon; unicycles are downright rare. In large part due to this rarity, people often act like I'm the setup man to a joke that no one's ever thought up before: "Where's your other wheel?" I have been riding for more than 25 of the past 27 years, and I'd have to guess that I've heard that question about once a day. If so, then that's over 9,000 times. Even if I've only heard it twice a week, that's still over two thousand times. People try so hard to be original. It kind of reminds me of the statistic that in 2004, over 200 kids were given the name Unique. What's funny to me about the people who make the "other wheel" comment is that their friends always pat them on the back and laugh, suggesting that they are even less creative than their witty pals.
In many ways, riding a unicycle is the flip-side to riding a wheelchair. It's the healthy version, the one that is made by choice rather than by unfortunate circumstances -- only a weirdo would want to ride all around in a wheelchair, even for a day; presumably, only a weirdo would choose to ride a unicycle everyday. Every time I ride thru city Manhattan, I am the recipient of pointing, commenting, laughing, singing, invisibility.
Like wheelchairs, unicycles represent a different method of locomotion. On city streets and sidewalks, wheelchairs are fairly uncommon; unicycles are downright rare. In large part due to this rarity, people often act like I'm the setup man to a joke that no one's ever thought up before: "Where's your other wheel?" I have been riding for more than 25 of the past 27 years, and I'd have to guess that I've heard that question about once a day. If so, then that's over 9,000 times. Even if I've only heard it twice a week, that's still over two thousand times. People try so hard to be original. It kind of reminds me of the statistic that in 2004, over 200 kids were given the name Unique. What's funny to me about the people who make the "other wheel" comment is that their friends always pat them on the back and laugh, suggesting that they are even less creative than their witty pals.
A Brief Introduction
This blog is an attempt to describe the different ways that pedestrians behave when they see me riding my unicycle on the sidewalk. For years I've noticed that their behavior has a lot to do with certain main factors: age, sex, socioeconomics. Other important factors include our location and whether they are alone or in a small group.
My impetus for writing this is really two-fold. I heard an interview on NPR with a social scientist who had become paralyzed due to an illness. He spoke with the host about how being in a wheelchair changed the way people treated him [for example, women didn't shy from making conversation with him because they no longer perceived him as someone who might make unwanted sexual advances]. A few days later, the forced laughter of some teenagers reminded me that people treat unicyclists very differently than they treat most strangers on the sidewalk.
In this blog, I'm going to examine the different behaviors I've noticed over the years and I'll try to figure out why certain people behave the way they do when they see me on a unicycle.
My impetus for writing this is really two-fold. I heard an interview on NPR with a social scientist who had become paralyzed due to an illness. He spoke with the host about how being in a wheelchair changed the way people treated him [for example, women didn't shy from making conversation with him because they no longer perceived him as someone who might make unwanted sexual advances]. A few days later, the forced laughter of some teenagers reminded me that people treat unicyclists very differently than they treat most strangers on the sidewalk.
In this blog, I'm going to examine the different behaviors I've noticed over the years and I'll try to figure out why certain people behave the way they do when they see me on a unicycle.
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