I am Jack’s personal space

America is a funny place to live.

If you don’t believe me, just go to your local theme park or strip mall and people-watch for a few hours. (Bring a lawn chair and some popcorn…it’s solid summer entertainment).

One of the first things you’ll notice is how many of them there are. No matter what you do or where you go (unless you choose a meeting of Agoraphobics Anonymous, in which case you can take your overdeveloped sense of irony and stick it in your ear……ironically) you’ll probably find that people are like ants in your house during rainy seasons. They pour in from entrances you didn’t know existed and sort of aimlessly mill about, latching on to food sources and occasionally hoisting their dead comrades above their heads to cart back to the hill.

Like those six-legged trollops, however, people will exhibit one dominant and peculiar behavior when in crowds. They don’t want to be touched. The only scenario in the world outside of the Catholic church before Mardi Gras (future debauchers storing up grace!) where they will, with absolute certainty, be bumped, nudged, jostled, or–heaven help us–breathed on in passing…and they insist on The Bubble.

The Bubble is an extraordinary marvel of the scientific world. From person to person, it varies in radius, quality of soundproofing, and defense mechanisms. Some are thin, easily subverted, and made of a fuzzy pink aura that leaves the infringer with a slight humming sound in their head and the barely concealed desire to cuddle puppies. Others are vast, inexplicably cause hives, and emit a high-pitched squealing noise like rats in a noodle maker. The one universal constant among the bubble boys and girls of America, however, is that there are certain rules of etiquette one must follow. For time’s sake, we’ll narrow it to three.

1. The Line Bubble. It’s a statistical fact (no, it’s not) that Americans spend at least 30% of their life span waiting in lines. It’s also a statistical fact (I’m lying) that 1 in 4 Americans will, at some point, deck the person waiting behind them. The motives vary from reaching around to grab the little partition bar, to allowing one’s biological monster-baby to flick Tic-Tacs into someone else’s hair…but most experts agree that the main cause of Express Lane violence is the fact that the person was standing too close. You know that feeling–when you don’t want to turn and look, but your hackles rise with the knowledge that the person behind you is looming so close that your ponytail could take out an eye. Oh, yeah. Don’t be ashamed. Anyone would like to get in a good swing, or at least a well-placed “do you MIND?”

2. The P.T. Bubble. This applies to all public transportation in which seating is a matter of free will. As my enlightened Sith Lord of a Chemistry professor told me freshman year, people operate under the same law that electrons and electron levels do. In a bank of open seat pairs on a typical bus, people will file on and fill in one of the two seats in every row before being forced to sit next to someone. I understand this sentiment. When I am on the bus, sohelpmeGOD if you sit next to me when there are open seats elsewhere I will pretend to have rabies and gnaw on my own arm. People don’t stick around when you gnaw on your arm. Conclusion–public transportation operates under bubble etiquette, and my professor is still the Sith.

3. The Conversation Bubble. Not to be confused with the speech bubble, that minute area of white space too often filled with inane monologuing in the daily paper’s comics, this refers to the unspoken buffer zone that should stand between you and the person you happen to be talking with. If you ever notice someone attempting to lean back inconspicuously while you’re blabbing, chances are one of two things are true. One, your breath reminds them of bad dreams, or two…you’re too close for comfort. Another telling indicator that you’re not observing the laws of conversation bubble? The fact that their eyes are unfocused and seem to be trying to siphon your brain out through the bridge of your nose. At that range, you probably look like a large, fuzzy replica of something that might have been human once.

There really are very few acceptable reasons for the invasion of personal space. If you are a) dating, b) best friends/kissing cousins/people who like hugs, or c) saving someone from imminent death through the cunning use of massage therapy……by all means. Other than that, not a chance.

Welcome to America–land of the free, home of the spaciously-inclined. Oh, and please step back about 8 inches. You’re in my bubble.

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