Just how stupid are we getting?

I’m not sure if people are getting dumber, or if there is an overriding fear that if things are not precisely spelled out, someone will do something stupid and sue a company or individual.

            Case in point.

            In the not too recent past, I was on a flight and noticed that in the lavatories (those things are too small to be called bathrooms) in addition to the pictures stickers that remind you not to smoke, where the call button is, etc., is one on the toilet depicting a person sitting on one as if to say “and here’s where you defecate”.

            Really.

            I can’t help but wonder how much money was spent in the design and production of those stickers.  I can’t help but wonder what ever prompted the need for these stickers.  Was it based on flight crew observations?  I mean, was there an airline that feature an announcement that said “In the event of an in-cabin defecation, a roll of toilet paper will drop from the ceiling…”?  You would think that someone who figured out how to make a flight reservation, keep their luggage within airline and/or TSA guidelines and go through security would at least know how to use the restroom, oh sorry, lavatory. I guess it gives a whole new meaning to friendly skies.

            Case in point No. 2.

            Out of the clear blue, my wife decided we needed a new hair dryer.  So with coupon in hand, off I went to check out the selections.  Another case that supports Will Rogers’ claim that “We are the first nation in the history of the world to go to the poor house in an automobile…”  With styled hair.  A brief aside, the selection of hair dryers is almost laughable – they all have the same power, but thanks to product marketers, they all have gimmicks – which, of course add to the price. And what the heck is diffuser?  It sounds like something needed at Village Board meetings.

            With new hair dryer in hand, I eagerly awaited my wife’s approval, which was quickly earned.  Fortunately.

            With the replacement made, I decided – for whatever reason – to look at the directions.  Why I do not know because there is not much to plugging it in, selecting a speed and temperature, and drying one’s hair (the ion switch did require an extra five seconds of reading).  As with any electric appliance, the manufacturer gave safety instructions, which included the usual – don’t use near water, keep away from heated surfaces and do not use if the cord or plug is damaged.

            But one warning made me wonder just how stupid some people are.  The warning?  “Never use while sleeping.”

            Really.  Honestly.  Seriously.

            Either someone has too much time on their hands, or it’s a corporate joke.

            Can you imagine this scene?  “Good night honey, hope the hair dryer doesn’t keep you awake?”

            And talk about having a bad hair day.  “Geez, I slept with my hair dryer last night and can’t do a thing with it.”

            You just have to wonder what kind of person needs to be reminded not to use their hair dryer while sleeping.

            Oh, I know, the same person who has to be reminded what a toilet is for.

           

So what did I miss while I was gone?

I’m not sure if there’s a newspaper in Mayville, New York.

But if there is, then residents of this tiny town nestled at the end of Chautauqua Lake in western New York may have read the following:

Police continued their investigation into a small, but boisterous, parade late Monday night.   Residents report excessive horn blowing, the sounds of a yet identified horn and the sounds of Chelsea Dagger with jubilant celebrating.

               Having the Blackhawks win the Stanley cup while you’re on vacation in middle of western New York will do that to you.

               Who would have thought about it a year ago when my travel agent, who doubles as my wife, said we were going to the Chautauqua Institution on the lake bearing the same name, for a week.  The Chautauqua Institution is, in essence, Ravinia on steroids.  In addition to classic music and contemporary dance, etc., the institution offers lectures on religion, arts, drama, spirituality etc.

               But not sports.  No baseball, no football, squash, lacrosse, rugby or hockey – Nothing, nada, zilch.

         

    Fortunately, armed with a smart phone, laptop and cooperative residents who guided me to areas sports bars, all was not lost.

               Let me interject here that the Institution, as beautiful and engaging as it can be, attracts an audience that is, well, older than I am.  A lot older.  I think the average age is around 83 ½, and that’s on family day.

               The bottom line is this – there just aren’t a lot of sports fans, let alone hockey fans, around.  It’s are to say that I was the only one wearing a Blackhawks sweater at any given time – even in  80-plus degree heat with high humidity.

               Game five was a challenge.  Attending the Saturday concert that attracted 4,000 (yes, 4,000) people I found that there were some people who actually knew the Chicago Blackhawks and wanted to know the score. 

               While I have a strong disdain for people who text and use their phones during movies, I became a hypocrite during a performance by what I believe was an a cappella group, to check the score.  It’s hard being subtle when Patrick Kane scores.

               Two nights later is game six it was another visit to the amphitheater for a performance by two guys from New York who sing.  Great.  Wonderful.  But it’s game six.  Fortunately my research yielded results – a bar that has, so I was told, “plenty of big screens.”  Remember, this is Mayville, New York.  A big screen could very well be 21-inch RCA TV.  I’m saved.

               Once the two guys from New York finished, and fortunately it was a short concert, the game was only at the end of the first period with the score 1-0, Boston.  Undaunted, there was plenty of time to get to the bar, located as part of the largest resort in Mayville.  As luck would have it, I went to the wrong part of the resort, but fortunately the lobby staff had the game on giving me the chance to see the end of the first period on yes, a big screen TV.  There was hope yet in Mayville.

               Once I found the bar – a second-floor facility over the driveway – really – I was amazed to find people – all two of them -- actually watching the hockey game.  What surprised me is that they seemed to be partial to the Blackhawks.  At this point I’m getting to like Mayville, New York.  Their partiality was probably due to the fact that Mayville is about 45 minutes from Buffalo – Patrick Kane’s hometown.         Aside from dealing with an overzealous bartender (“do you want a drink?”, “do you want an appetizer?” “do you want to see a menu?”) – No, damn it, I just want to watch the hockey game.

               Despite the knowledge of the two guys to my left and the attentiveness of the bar tender (Michelle, or was it Melissa?) there was still something missing.  The place was way too quiet.  The only other patrons were a couple trying to enjoy what appeared to be a quiet late night dinner.

               Right.  It’s game six of the Stanley Cup finals.  I was hoping for a raucous crowd, ala the United Center, or a Chicago-area watering hole.  But wait, this is Mayville, New York.  Not a sole on the street.

               Like most Blackhawk fans, with Boston up 2-1 late in the third it appeared that a return trip to Mayville was inevitable. 

               Enter Bryan Bickell at 18:44 – 1:16 left.  Amazing.  It’s tied.  The bar erupts.  Well, at least I did.  Another overtime?  By this time the bar tender figured out that this guy with an Indian on his chest was not to be bothered.  Good thinking.

               The guys next to me increased their focus on the game.  We barely had a chance to discuss the tying goal when, Dave Bolland scored the go-ahead goal with 58.7 seconds left.  Amazing.  Jubilation.  Even the lonely couple having dinner looked up.

               The rest, as we all know, is history.  The two guys to my left shared my jubilation and gave me a high-five.  The bartender seemed somewhat clueless, but then again, this is Mayville, New York.

               So somewhere on this delightful night, there is some excitement in Mayville. The victory celebration was somewhat staid -- a single car with a Blackhawk car flag, some horn sounding and some shouts of glee.

               Mayville never knew what hit it. 

But neither did the Bruins.