For some inexplicable reason, theme parks seem to be haven for the poorly dressed. No, I take that back; if they were havens the poorly dressed people who frequent them would stay there, giving my eyes a much needed respite. Such was the visual torture to which I was subjected on my recent vacation to The Wizarding World of Harry Potter. Long seen by my sister and I as a sacred pilgrimage, my Hajj for Harry was punctuated all too frequently by visions of a barrage of bros, plaid shorts fused disgustingly with striped shirts to form an ensemble so heinous I can hardly recount it here without forcibly suppressing my gag reflex.
This must be some twisted joke, I told myself as I strolled along the faux cobbled streets of not Hogsmeade. Maybe they used up all their good clothes for holiday parties and haven't had time to wash them. Maybe it's a consort of students from the local school for the blind. Perhaps they're foreign guests unfamiliar with our customs. Sadly only the latter part of my self delusional musing turned out to be true. It's remarkable, but the last place one would expect to find a global cultural exchange seems to be its ironic epicenter. Every few steps I caught snatches of a different language, French, Spanish, Chinese and something that sounded disturbingly like a gargling Italian opera singer.
But this can't be; I thought indignantly. How could these Europeans be so hideously dressed? I had seen first hand back at school that everyone but me owns a Burberry scarf, and as Montreal is one of North America's more European cities, with a large number of McGill students hailing from the continent, I was wrought with confusion at seeing these unfortunately clad tourists.
On the bright side, I told myself, at least I'm a shoo in for best dressed. My new found stylistic superiority did wonders to improve my mood, and I fell back on my favorite pastime, judging people. Now before you close your browser window, let me explain my abrasive frankness when it comes to critiquing. Everyone, without exception, makes judgments. Hundreds of judgments on a daily, perhaps hourly basis. You may not be conscious of it, but each time you make a choice, you are judging that the choice you make is the superior option to the alternative. When you think to yourself, my goodness he/she is gorgeous! You are judging a person's appearance, albeit in a positive manner. So I ask those of you who take issue with my criticisms, what harm is there in acknowledging a universal human characteristic?
"Well, my mother told me if you don't have anything nice to say don't say it at all!" you reply in a breathy, confrontational tone. Your mother is a kindhearted fool. Undoubtedly she means well and is a sweet lady (as most mothers are), but she fails to grasp the long term harm that is inflicted by withholding judgment. When emotions and thoughts are stored away, forcibly detained by our oral musculature and good manners, they fester. Like an anaerobic bacterium, these thoughts multiply and infect your psyche, breeding contempt and distorting your original discomfort into genuine hatred. The best way to avoid this is to vent your frustrations as soon as possible and in a constructive way. "But Daniel!" you triumphantly exclaim, "Your harsh critiques are anything but constructive. Look at your degrading syntax!" Au contraire confused reader. What my syntax lacks in politesse it makes up for in originality. Constructive criticism does not, by definition, have to be kind, and by my count venting one's feelings through creative writing is an activity in the construction of detailed observation. By starting a conservation or expressing your opinions to what I certainly hope in my case is an attentive audience, one removes the veil that shields hatred from it's true arena of defeat, public discourse.
In fact, now that I think about it, a theme park is the perfect vehicle for public discourse. It's a veritable display of dysfunctional families, overwhelming joy, crushing defeat and vomiting. What's more universal than that? Perhaps we could resolve controversial issues with greater ease if we were to turn what is now a circus of catcalling and hyper-partisanship into a thrilling thematic venue of the human character. After all, who wants an exit wound from bitter infighting when you can exit through the gift shop?
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