personal space and what that looks like {to me}

I decided that while 2 of my boys are at summer camp it would be a great time to treat the littlest and spoil him just a touch with a fantastic day trip – wait, here’s the kicker – to a major tourist attraction in the middle of summer on a beautiful sunny day in the city!

Right. So apparently lots of other people decided to go to the aquarium yesterday too.  Like, lots.  This had not even crossed my mind.  Sure it would be busy.  I knew that.  But it’s an aquarium that doesn’t even have a killer whale.  How busy could it be?

I’ll give you a picture.  You know how you’re thinking that there were probably teams of day camp kids all in matching hats pushing their way to the front of the beluga tank?  There wasn’t.  Erase  those and insert adults in designer clothing and heels (heels!!) all speaking foreign languages and carrying very fancy camera equipment.  This includes extremely large lenses.  But I’ll get to that in a second.

It was confirmed to me yesterday that I am not a fan of touching.  Okay, if you’re my friend and you’re clean and smell good then a touch on the arm or a hug isn’t horrible but it’s not my normal.

So here is my guide on how to know when close is just too close no matter how badly you want a picture of a dolphin:  disclaimer:   if these were children I would be fine.  these are fully grown and should know better humans!!

1)  The lens of your camera bonks someone in front of you (namely, me!) on the head.  You’re probably just a touch close – like somewhere in the 70-200 mm range.

2)  While leaning on the fence to watch the dolphin show your entire family squeezes into a spot that once just housed my bag which I purposefully placed there as a buffer between me and the likes of you.  I’ve been standing here in this spot with my buffer in place for 40 minutes waiting for the show to start.  why, oh why, at T-15 seconds do you get to squish in and scooch my buffer over with your very fancy leather shoes and then ask if I can move down so your 24 year old son can see.  No!!  I can’t!  But I shuffle appeasingly.

red = personal space in jeopardy

3) While trying to see the anaconda curled up at the very back corner of his ‘habitat’ your entire body, minus extremities, is pressed closer against mine than my husbands has been in a few nights.  Step the curse word back, thank you very much.

4)  I can feel your breath on my skin.  At every exhibit.  In every line-up.  There is breath from people that I don’t know on me.  Let me just add that the more one thinks about this the worse it becomes.  It’s like they can smell your breath-fear and purposely move just a bit closer for the exhale.

5)  While in the line-up at the gift shop** the hanger which is holding your souvenir shirt, which I’m sure looks great on you, is jabbing me in back.  repeatedly.  when I inch forward I assure you it’s not because the line is moving, do not inch with me!

**(what?  I had to bribe my son to leave early cause I couldn’t take it anymore.  don’t judge! $14 for a pencil is a small price to pay!  I kid, it was a stuffy.  $14 for a pencil is ridiculous but still a small price to pay given the circumstances and I totally would have done it.)



2 thoughts on “personal space and what that looks like {to me}

  1. Love it! I especially love that not just any ol’ friend can hug you, but that you’ve carefully specified that only those clean, sweet-smelling ones among us are allowed to! I am so with you on the far-end-of-the-touch-spectrum. Let’s solomnly promise that we’ll never hug each other, shall we?!


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