Rubbernecking
This weekend one of the all-news radio stations told the story of a woman who flew to NYC from Phoenix on the spur of the moment just to see the US Airways jet that landed in the Hudson River. Her reason? "I'm a frequent US Airways flier and I wanted to see it."
Oh.
Of course, she is just one of many tourists who come to this town with the strange desire to gawk at tragedy (or in the US Airways jet case, near tragedy). The site where the twin towers once stood has become, by and large, just another of the must-see tourist attractions in this town complete with enterprising citizens selling T-shirts, hats, and commemorative trinkets of all kinds. I accidentally became the owner of one such trinket, a truly classy bottle opener with a revolving oval piece in the middle with the Statue of Liberty on one side and the towers on the other. I say "accidentally" because I bought it when I was in need of a bottle opener one evening and only saw the Statue of Liberty side. It was only after I put it to use that I noticed the WTC on the other side.
Who thinks of these things?
Then again I suppose the only difference between that kind of tourism and the visits to Civil War battlefields that were a part of many of my childhood vacations is the passage of time. We can say we're honoring the fallen or learning about history all we want, but what we're really doing is the same thing that we do when we see a car accident: Rubbernecking.
Why do we do it?
Darwin-lovers are always fond of pointing out how all animal traits (and they typically include humans in the animal kingdom) evolved for a reason. On the other hand, your intelligent design types believe that there is a supreme being that does everything for a reason only comprehensible to Him, Her, It or Them. Ignoring the fact that these sound suspiciously like two sides of the same coin with only the entity credited differing (an old man in the sky vs. some abstract force called "nature"), what is the evolutionary purpose of that overwhelming desire to see horror and tragedy that we all have to one degree or another?
I used to do road trips with a guy who would say "When I get up there, I'd better see a goddamn body bag!" when he was at the wheel and in a multi-mile backup behind an accident. Now maybe that was out of anger over the perceived stupidity or carelessness of one or more of the accident participants, but I suspect a certain degree of voyeurism was part of it as well. I've also been in the car with drivers who have slowed down to have a look at a crash after spending the entire time they were farther back in the traffic line cursing out the morons who were holding up our progress.
Compared to all that, maybe it's not so odd that a woman flew all the way from Phoenix to look at the near-tragedy. Given that nobody died, maybe she was just looking for hope, not sensationalism. Does hope have an evolutionary purpose? Or did she just want to know that God "saved" those passengers "for a reason"? Of course I might ask where God was for those poor birds that got sucked into the engine.
Boy, I sure am curious to see what they find in those engines when they get them out of the river muck. I wonder if somebody will post some pictures somewhere.
Oh.
Of course, she is just one of many tourists who come to this town with the strange desire to gawk at tragedy (or in the US Airways jet case, near tragedy). The site where the twin towers once stood has become, by and large, just another of the must-see tourist attractions in this town complete with enterprising citizens selling T-shirts, hats, and commemorative trinkets of all kinds. I accidentally became the owner of one such trinket, a truly classy bottle opener with a revolving oval piece in the middle with the Statue of Liberty on one side and the towers on the other. I say "accidentally" because I bought it when I was in need of a bottle opener one evening and only saw the Statue of Liberty side. It was only after I put it to use that I noticed the WTC on the other side.
Who thinks of these things?
Then again I suppose the only difference between that kind of tourism and the visits to Civil War battlefields that were a part of many of my childhood vacations is the passage of time. We can say we're honoring the fallen or learning about history all we want, but what we're really doing is the same thing that we do when we see a car accident: Rubbernecking.
Why do we do it?
Darwin-lovers are always fond of pointing out how all animal traits (and they typically include humans in the animal kingdom) evolved for a reason. On the other hand, your intelligent design types believe that there is a supreme being that does everything for a reason only comprehensible to Him, Her, It or Them. Ignoring the fact that these sound suspiciously like two sides of the same coin with only the entity credited differing (an old man in the sky vs. some abstract force called "nature"), what is the evolutionary purpose of that overwhelming desire to see horror and tragedy that we all have to one degree or another?
I used to do road trips with a guy who would say "When I get up there, I'd better see a goddamn body bag!" when he was at the wheel and in a multi-mile backup behind an accident. Now maybe that was out of anger over the perceived stupidity or carelessness of one or more of the accident participants, but I suspect a certain degree of voyeurism was part of it as well. I've also been in the car with drivers who have slowed down to have a look at a crash after spending the entire time they were farther back in the traffic line cursing out the morons who were holding up our progress.
Compared to all that, maybe it's not so odd that a woman flew all the way from Phoenix to look at the near-tragedy. Given that nobody died, maybe she was just looking for hope, not sensationalism. Does hope have an evolutionary purpose? Or did she just want to know that God "saved" those passengers "for a reason"? Of course I might ask where God was for those poor birds that got sucked into the engine.
Boy, I sure am curious to see what they find in those engines when they get them out of the river muck. I wonder if somebody will post some pictures somewhere.
Comments