It's not like there isn't enough crazy behavior going on right here in our own backyard that we have to look overseas to find things that are, shall we say, curious to comment on.
But I saw something the other day that knocked, oh, I don't know, just about anything we've been doing in the United States for the past few months off the top spot on the list of Things That Don't Appear To Have Been Very Well Thought Through.
It seems, in a nod to the dangers of disease transmission, a theme park in Japan is asking patrons who ride its roller coasters to not scream while on the rides.
That leaves me with thoughts. Lots of thoughts.
For one, asking people not to react in terror as they plummet over the edge of a sheer drop repeatedly seems both unrealistic and antithetical to the experience.
I realize there is always the possibility some people approach scary situations with the idea they are going to scream. Actors, for instance. And K-pop fans. For the rest of us, screaming is a highly personal thing that happens when we're terrified. And that's not something I, for one, tend to schedule. Or anticipate.
One of the reasons I don't particularly like roller coasters, scary rides or horror movies is, well, I don't like to be scared. Or startled. Or around other people who are scared or startled and want to let me know about it.
I've fallen off enough things that I understand the experience and don't particularly care for it, and if I really want to be terrified, well, these certainly seem to be days where I could accomplish that without having to pay for the experience. Just turn on the news.
At a time when life itself is jumping out from behind the bushes and yelling "boo!", I'm not sure I really need to invite more chills and thrills into my world. Like we used to have to say in Oklahoma clubs and restaurants, I brought my own, thanks. OK, that was about something else. Different story.
This may sound like I'm moving firmly into the camp of people who yell at clouds and glare at kids who might even be thinking about riding on their grass. But I'm not. Really. I've just decided that, in a time when so many things are happening that I don't control and have to be frightened of, the idea of asking to be scared just seems redundant at best. Think of it as going all Marie Kondo on my emotions. It's not sparking joy, so ...
I have long ago come to grips with the fact that any personal physical courage on my part was more than likely the result of not fully understanding the potential consequences of my actions. It could be genetic: Lore has it family members' last words were often something along the lines of, "Well, that doesn't look that high up," and "Oh, he's not going to shoot anyone with that."
Still, even given that, I just know when something looks like a bad idea. And usually is.
In the case of roller coasters in this day and age, there appears to be a real "vicious circle" aspect to it all. I'm scared so I'm screaming and now we're all scared because we're screaming and we're scare OF the screaming. Sort of a pyramid scheme of terror. I mean, if screaming were the object, we've found a way to maximize our return.
There is, however, a very symbolic quality to this circumstance and request.
Even being in the park, in crowds, locked in confined spaces with other people, etc., is, according to health experts and common sense, dangerous, considering we still don't have a vaccine or cure.
But we're going to do it anyway. And the answer to potential health risks brought on by getting on these rides? Don't scream. In other words, you probably shouldn't be doing this, but you and I have decided we can do this, despite plenty of evidence to the contrary. So please do it. And if it gets scary, keep it to yourself.
Now, it's fairly clear I don't like roller coasters. But over the years I've learned a trick for those occasions when my kids insisted I get on with them. Put on your sunglasses. Close your eyes. Wait for it to be over. Pretend it was fun.
Boy, I really wish that worked in real life right now.
Gary Smith is a recovering journalist living in Rogers.