0562 - Manners

As you Readers can tell, most of our Staff is noted for youthful and resilient outlooks on the world. One exception is our Revered Investment Guru, who has soured from watching Wall Street for too many years. We all know those sports commentators who say a football halfback, for example, is a marvel to be hobbling around the field at, say, the great old age of 32. Well, this week the Staff was hanging out watching the Olympics, and almost lost it at the commentators for the women’s swimming. These babblers carried on about the performance of a lady who had reached the incredible age of 24 and was still tottering around the pool. Please don’t do that, NBC. We understand that medals can’t be awarded to seniors, but we have known some fairly sprightly women who have reached 25.

Now, about manners. An advantage of living on Anguilla after living in the States is the opportunity to observe both the similarities and the differences in manners. Some of the manners on Anguilla are strikingly superior to those common in the States. When was the last time in the States when a passer-by who you never saw before stopped to help move a new refrigerator into your house? Who changed a tire for you out of sheer helpfulness? Who got on a bike and led you to a house you were vainly seeking? [We have no house numbers in Anguilla, and named streets and street signs are rare.] Not often in the States, we’ll bet, but those are standard Anguillian manners.

On the other side of the coin, you might not be as charmed by the Anguillian drivers who simply cannot stand to park between parking lines. At the Post Office it is 100 to one odds that the car parked on the “No Parking” strip marked at the entrance is a local, not a meek Expat. And then, speaking of parking, who has the best and shadiest spot near a store? The owner, that’s who – owning has its perks. And inside a lot of stores, there is none of that smarmy Wal-Mart attention to customers. You just wait until the clerks stop talking to each other (or stop eating their snacks) and are ready to notice you. And yet, and yet, a clerk in an Anguillian hardware store will spend 15 minutes with you helping you find the right size nut and bolt (total cost $US0.0268). The point is – we’ve said this before – the purpose of running a shop is not to make the most possible money; it’s a status thing.

Now, finally, we come to the question of noise. In New York, it is vital for a successful restaurant to be noisy beyond the ability to converse. A bar serving youths is loud enough to prevent discourse. In Anguilla, it’s a bit different. All bars are noisy here, too, because shouting expresses that everybody is having a good time. Most restaurants are not noisy, although our Staff’s favorite and cheap Chinese (the Lighthouse) has intolerable acoustics and we are about to abandon the place unless they buy sound deadening ceiling tile. The big difference here is playing loud – but LOUD – music. Music here must be loud enough to fracture your kidney stones, or no joy.

And, just to finish, because we need to get back to work on next week’s plan to revamp the Olympics, there is the question of blowing horns and music in cars. Horn blowing is for cities up North, not here. But playing music in a car with the windows open at 150 decibels: that’s Anguilla. The guys park their cars at the grocery, leave car windows open, and the music shatters the storefront (and your offended eardrums). Though it’s not really a gift we want, we think it is meant as a free offering to the vicinity. Thanks a lot.

Next time: Multilympics [OO #563]

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