November 7, 2007

• Personal Space Invaders.

  Don't touch me, you freak!

  Okay, it's not exactly the phrase my superego was trying to suppress, but it was close.  This past weekend I attended the largest conference in the world for my specialty (lucky for me it was in SF!) and as you can imagine it was quite crowded, with people from East and West setting the Guiness world record for the most people fascinated with urine gathering under one roof (the medical community's version of "yellow fever" har har).  And with large crowds comes more invasion of personal space than the welcome line in Sing Sing prison.

  At 6'1", 225 lbs. with shoulders as wide as the gap between the leader of Iran and his sanity, I know that I'm not exactly Olive Oyl or Clay Aiken (Popeye or Ruben Studdard are more like it).  So when I'm in a conference hall (or plane, bus, train, etc.) I try my best to contract and contort my body to keep from cavorting outside my designated space.  I hoped that others would extend me the same courtesy, but like a chess team captain asking out the head cheerleader I came away disappointed.  Almost every time someone else plunked their okole down next to mine I would shrink back from the edge of the seat and that person would take it as an invitation to fold his or her arms and lean back like Fat Joe, taking up 10% of my space, not to mention brushing up against me constantly.  Any slight movement to the right or left and I would find myself touching more elbows than a UFC fight or inhaling from an armpit whose pungency was second only to the BART train on the way back from the Garlic Festival.  (This one old lady almost fell asleep on my shoulder, channeling Aunt Jemima as she almost slathered my shirt with drool like syrup on pancakes.)

  But here's what really marinated my meatloaf...the ones invading my personal space were invariably attendees from Europe!  I guess in Europe personal space is like intelligence on The View...it doesn't exist!  I should not be surprised, however.  Europe, after all, is the place (according to myth, legend, rumor, the Washington Post, Dead Sea Scrolls and my cousin's piano teacher's former roommate) where families will go butt nekkid to the sauna together, French people are still, well, French, and parents are still unafraid to let their children hold Michael's hand when he sings "Heal the World." 

  Now don't get me wrong.  I'm not a schizoid person who avoids all human contact.  I'm from the Aloha state and with those that I care about I overwhelm with hugs and other displays of physical affection (well, the wahines...the men I still do the fist tap).  But not with strangers.  Especially strangers who don't bathe or shave their pits!

  This reminds me of the different types of Personal Space Invaders:

  • The Booty Snatcher.  A distant cousin to the sleazy guy who creeps up behind wahines on the dance floor, this miscreant is known to frequent ATM machines and grocery stores.  Whenever you're in line s/he stands close enough so you can feel his/her breath on the back of your neck. 
  • The Spread Eagle.  Typically of the male species, this guy sits with his legs spread more open than a 7-Eleven, resulting in more touching than an episode of Oprah.
  • The Brad Pit.  Like the Spread Eagle, this person gets comfortable by leaning back and spreading...his/her arms, exposing the pits.  In this age of Old Spice and Right Guard it's usually not a cause for sinus concern, unless it's a hirsute German woman with 2 beards, but not on her chin, if ya know what I mean, jelly bean.
  • The Leaner.  I always wondered why some people when they talk to you choose to lean in close enough to kiss you.  If someone does that to me once I'll make sure I eat kim chi before I see them again.

  Just remember folks, my personal space is like my honeymoon.  You are not invited!

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  Some boring pics from the conference (click to enlarge):

  

  At the conference I realized that if I was going to have to practice standard of care medicine in my specialty, I will have to do it with a balding head.

  

  I was severely underdressed like high school cafeteria salad.  Most were wearing business suits while I wore jeans, the shoes you can see here and a top from Gap or H&M (bought on sale...Taiwanese represent!).

  

  Doctors are people too.  Hand out free pens and we will stand in line!  There was a lot of "industry" representation there.

  

  This was some ridiculous virtual reality roller coaster thing one company had.  Of course, only the Japanese doctors took it for a spin.

  ------

  I have to emcee a wedding reception on Monday.  Yikers!  Any advice?  And have a great rest of the week.  I know I will because I'm on vacation in Hawaii! 

  Edit: Oh my.  If you have little kids, read this about poisoned toys.  Is anyone going to hold China accountable for these products that can kill?

  • 12:32 pm
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