Nothing wrong in being distracted
Earlier this month in PostScript there was a reference to “distracted walkers”, a term for those people who bump into you on the street or the BTS because they have their noses buried in their smartphones. I have since discovered there is an international organisation, The Global Association of Distracted People, which connects in a light-hearted way with people who are easily distracted, and not just by smartphones. The Swedish founder of the association, Johan Rapp, was in Bangkok last week and we had an interesting chat despite assorted … er … distractions.
Johan believes everyone has a right to forget things and be distracted in this highly stressful world. He has just published The World’s 101 Best Distracted Stories with a collection of anecdotes from people who wanted to share their tales of forgetfulness.
There is the fellow who decided to take his dog for a walk but didn’t realise until he had gone several blocks that he had forgotten the dog.
Then there was the female Norwegian journalist who arrived for an interview with an important politician in Oslo only to discover that under her coat she had forgotten to put on a dress and was only wearing her winter tights.
Someone who must have been very distracted is a chap in Poland who was ironing his shirt when the phone rang and he put the iron to his ear, with predictably painful results. He blamed the incident on “multitasking” as he was also watching the television and drinking a beer. Anyway, the lesson is never answer the phone if you happen to be ironing.
Up on the roof
There were several incidents of people not remembering they had put things on their car roof. One fellow drove off and lost all the Christmas presents he had just bought. Another gentleman put his family’s pet guinea pig in a box on the roof, forgot about it and drove off. He suddenly remembered, pulled to a halt, and much to his relief found the pet happily snoozing on top of the car.
If you happen to be prone to distraction and want to share a tale you can get in touch with the organisation at distractedpeople. com
Hats off to the cops
I witnessed a case of the car roof syndrome outside the former Bangkok Post office many years ago. Four cops were lounging outside their patrol car parked near the Rama IV entrance to Lumpini Park when they apparently got an emergency call. Ever alert, the policemen leapt into the car and roared off down Rama IV, just like in the movies. However, not like the movies, after about 10 metres the police car screeched to a halt and out climbed an embarrassed cop to retrieve his hat which he had inadvertently left perched on the roof.
Also in the Big Mango, an English couple living off Sukhumvit were in a taxi on their way to the airport for a flight to England. Halfway to the airport the husband asked his wife to give him the airline tickets. “I thought you had them,” she said. “No, I thought you had them,” he replied. Then he recalled: “Just before we left I remember putting them on the roof of the cab and … Oh My God!”
Of course the tickets were no longer on the roof so the taxi raced back to their apartment and through a huge stroke of fortune they found them lying by the side of the soi where they had fallen off the taxi at the start of their journey.
Paradise lost
Certain people get so distracted they can’t remember either where they are or why they are there. Someone who suffered from this was the author and poet GK Chesterton who, while on a lecture tour in the English Midlands during the 1930s, sent the following telegram to his wife: “Am in Birmingham. Where ought I to be?”
Seeing Chesterton’s name reminded me of a PostScript column on “paradise” which appeared last August. The last item was supposed to be a Chesterton poem but I somehow got distracted and it never appeared. Here’s an opportunity to remedy that oversight.
Chesterton was a witty fellow and in The Rolling English Road, published in 1914, he managed to squeeze in a reference to paradise. It is a tale of an English drunkard who gets to places in a very roundabout way amidst a flurry of flowing alliteration. Sounds a bit like me on a Friday night. Each stanza finishes with a description of a most unusual itinerary featuring places at opposite ends of Britain — “The night we went to Birmingham by way of Beachy Head”. “The night we went to Glastonbury by way of Goodwin Sands”. “The night we went to Bannockburn by way of Brighton Pier.”
Chesterton concludes with: “For there is good news yet to hear and fine things to be seen, before we go to Paradise by way of Kensal Green.”
That’s the only time I have ever seen Kensal Green and paradise in the same sentence.
Taking a tumble
Finally a word of caution for all those distracted walkers. Tales abound of people so absorbed in their phones they end up plunging off piers, plummeting off cliffs, tumbling into ditches, tripping over park benches, slipping off railway platforms, falling into fountains, hurtling down stairs and generally coming a cropper. Happy perambulating.