Endangered Species: "Diary of an Eco-Warrior"

Endangerous

In Los Angeles, people spend more time in their cars than in their homes. Which is probably why they drive Hummers, SUVs, and mongo pick-up trucks. They’re simply taking their homes with them, out on the road. It was refreshing to see so many people benefit from the War in Iraq without troubling themselves with niggly little things, like introspection - or, doubt. 

Lucy, on the other hand, had rented a Prius. A worrywart’s car. Very sensible and eco-friendly, yes, except that it felt as if we were cruising around in a small, styrofoam box. I would have preferred the Ford Mustang that we saw on the lot. That was my kind of automobile. But she had the credit card with credit, so she made the call.

I had been to Los Angeles before, so I was wary. I knew from experience how dangerously seductive it could be. You arrive feeling King of the Hill, feeling cocky and supercharged, thinking of all the great things you’re going to accomplish in the city of angels. The streets are big. The houses are big. The girls are big, especially the joggers on San Vincente, with their gravity-defying body parts. All of humanity is at your disposal. Then, four months later, you get into a funk worrying about where you’re going to get your next skinny latte, as opposed to something more primal. Perhaps, it’s because you spend half the day brain-baked in your car. Or, maybe, living here is just too easy. Sometimes, you need the struggle to remind you what it’s like to be alive.

We stopped along the way at a convenience store, so I could go to the bathroom.

‘For a grown man, you certainly have a tiny bladder,’ said Lucy.

‘They super-sized my Cola at the airport. It’s not my fault I asked for a medium and they gave me a bucket.’

‘No one forced you to drink it all.’

‘Don’t worry, I won’t take long. I’m tiny, remember.’ 

That didn’t come out very well, either.

Truth be told, America did make me feel small. Everything here was bigger - the cars, the roads, the people. On the flip-side, there was definitely an underclass of the overweight. They were often found in amusement parks and shopping mausoleums, wheeling themselves around on motorised fat-cycles. Yet, they were made to feel welcome. Not only was there a solidarity in numbers, but an XL shirt in America would have been a XXXL anywhere else. Which came as no surprise, since food was cheap, plentiful, and served on horse platters. Sometimes, it was sold by the pound, instead of by the portion. Consumerism was not only rampant - it was celebrated. And without irony. One restaurant advertised, “All you can eat surf and turf for $9.99!” While, across the street, I saw something more sinister - “Fat-Free Liposuction services. Toddlers welcome.”

Inside the convenience store, I couldn’t help stopping to look and wonder. There were so many colours, so much variety - so many things I didn’t need. They were fun to look at, stretching from mile to endless aisle. They made me feel important. Here were all these brands, backed by captains of industry, that competed for my attention. Mine. I was the all-important consumer and they didn’t want me to forget it.

I felt sorry for the poor hunter-gatherer in his cave. He must have had a pretty gruelling life. Imagine if he could have driven down to the local convenience store, instead of fighting the wooly mammoth for his dinner? Everyone in the clan would be equal. People could take turns running errands and school runs. They’d no longer have to hunt. They could spend more leisure time with their families. Instead of fighting all the time, they could make necklaces, write poetry, or build community centres. Of course, they’d have to take care of those with special needs, now that they weren’t left to die in the wild, so they’d have to build ramps and separate cubicles in the washrooms. Health and safety would mandate that children shouldn’t be allowed to participate in games that might result in scrapes and bruises, so mental activities would take on greater importance than physical activity. People would live closer together, offering greater economies of scale, so they would need bigger buildings, with elevators. Not everyone, though, would be of equal intelligence. Some people would have a harder time finding purpose, especially the ones who used to be great hunters, but not so great at mental arithmetic. Not all of them, of course. Some would find their way into professional sports. But they’d be the lucky few, the ones paid to entertain the rest of us in the arena. Whereas the unlucky ones would have to attend self-help seminars and support groups. Other, more capable people, would rise in importance and take care of everyone else - possibly, on a pan-tribal scale. They’d create a welfare system to enable them to take care of others who they didn’t even know, while they were away on business. Then, they’d build better roads and faster vehicles to help themselves move around, so they could maximise their efficiency and help even more people on welfare. They would be called the “gurus” and would be fêted with more food and sex than the others. Meanwhile, the non-gurus would get so fat from doing nothing that they’d need to use the ramps that they’d originally built for the less capable people, which they themselves had now become.