Our Fraying Social Fabric

The Indignant Citizen took a vacation recently, and when he does that he usually returns to dis certain down in da Midwest with one of two feelings: 1) Chicago is the greatest city in the world; everyone else can go fuck themselves; or 2) Chicago is doomed. This time around, the Indignant Citizen is leaning more toward 2 for this simple reason: people in other places are nicer.

Case in point: Oregon. Specifically Portland and the Oregon coast. Very friendly people there. They smile at you in the grocery store, even at those awkward moments where your respective carts are trying to occupy the same space at the same time. They happily spend five or ten minutes discussing the weather, or which of the countless local beers they prefer, or the afternoon breeze that always cools the beaches in summer.

Of course, when your state’s unemployment rate is 6.5%, according to the latest figures from the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, a good argument can be made that you don’t have anything better to do. But the Indignant Citizen prefers to think that Oregonians, even in the afterglow of the decades-long ejaculation of Californians into the forested folds of the Beaver State, have retained their friendly sensibilities. In short, they remember how to interact with one another.

Compare that to Chicago, where restaurant workers glower and act as if you’re inconveniencing them by being there, employees behind the deli counter of the Jewel at 95th and Pulaski pretend they don’t know how to slice bread because they’re interested in doing the absolute minimum before clocking out for the day, and making eye contact on the street results in either steely stares or getting a half-empty cup of change shoved in your face.

This aloofness and occasional downright antisocial behavior is part of living in a big city. It’s a way to cope with the scale of social interaction. When the Indignant Citizen first moved here, he tried saying “hi” or nodding to most people he passed on the street. He was ignored and discouraged. And among a certain segment of the population he was quickly identified as a “sucker” and regularly asked to part with change, dollar bills or money of any kind. Once a guy hanging out at the Adams and Wabash el stop caught the Indignant Citizen in a generous mood. When the Indignant Citizen reached into his wallet to hand the guy the dollar he said he needed for the train, the guy saw a fiver in there and had the gall to say, “Just gimme the five, man.” Seeing no weapon, the Indignant Citizen declined in the most polite but direct terms possible.

For the most part, outside the small social circles we construct for ourselves, we city dwellers have forgotten how to be civil with one another. This tattered edge of our urban fabric will, the Indignant Citizen fears, continue to fray until economic or political forces beyond our comprehension today finally tear it to pieces. Have a nice day.