9/11, Social Tension, Sex and the Dancefloor

On September 11, 2001, al-Qaeda hijacked four American planes with the intent of causing death and destruction, eliciting mass chaos.  Whether you’re a conspiracy theorist and believe that the beams of the Twin Towers were intentionally slashed in such a way as to expedite collapse, or you think 9/11 was an inside job executed by our own government (or whatever), the 9/11 attacks were one of the hardest things some people will ever have to deal with.  Dealing with the loss of loved ones, and with the insult of such a bold attack on what many like to think is a well established and proud country - it was something that brought more heartache than most of us can fathom.

But it also brought something else.  In the wake of such absolute devastation, their common bonds and their need to communicate bring the suffering together.  After the attacks, after experiencing such panic, such chaos and such misery together, America as a country bonded like only the devastated can bond.  Across the country, as firetrucks would drive past, pedestrians young and old would stop, would smile, and would cheer and clap.  Some would be moved to tears.  Some might say prayers.  For many people, the value of having someone you can still turn to might never be more imminent.  

In all the tragedy and hysteria, for large chunks of the country (and of the world), a real sense of camaraderie rose up out of this catastrophe.  Just after 9/11, remember how many times we sang “I’m Proud to Be An American” by Lee Greenwood and were so moved by it?  How many times these days do we go to a baseball game or a football game, listen to some soloist deliver her erratically accentuated version of the national anthem and actually feel something for our country?

I guess this is part of why fraternities torture their pledges.  The pledges grow close and bond through all the broken bones, forced drug use, received beatings and all their being made to run ridiculous errands and perform ridiculous stunts.  The pledges are brought closer together because they deal, together, with all the hazing that still happens even though there are regulations against it.

It’s just so much easier to bond when we’re under attack, when our safety is called into question.  We become scared.  We know that something is happening.  Police are running through a hallway with guns drawn and everyone who sees them can turn to each other and ask, “What’s going on?”  There’s a tornado warning, and people go together to storm shelters and talk about what they might do if their collection of first-edition Frank Sinatra albums or original Pablo Picassos were destroyed.  They share survival techniques and pointers.  Together, they feast on the details of the impending natural disaster.

Regretfully, of course, 9/11 also brought many to bond together in their distrust of all Muslim and Arabic people.  Stereotyping is and probably will always be a problem for humanity, probably until we, as a race, expire.  But if we perceive a threat to our security, all our pretension will be cut.  We’ll socialize.  Maybe not with the ones we've stereotyped out, but within ourselves, we’ll come together and figure things out.  

So we know the ability is there.  The overwhelming compulsion to socialize with these would-be strangers, and the ability to slice straight through every square inch of pretension exists in each of us.  We know it does because when there’s a huge car wreck or a massive apartment fire, people come out of their houses and gather together to watch, to see what’s happening, to ask each other if everyone got out all right or if everyone died.

Know, of course, that I am not advocating the occurrence of something horrible for the sake of having something to talk about.  9/11 was a terrible tragedy, and brought such an immense amount of trouble for the people of America, not even to mention the absurd amount of stereotyping and unease that now reels out toward the people of Islam.  (On this topic, I cannot recommend enough Dave Eggers’ book Zeitoun, about a Muslim-American family trapped between post-9/11 paranoia and the Hurricane Katrina policy disaster.  It’s an incredibly compelling read.)

I am simply pointing out the truth that when something greater than each of us happens, we re-prioritize.  The pretension is cut, and we cling to what we still have and understand.  

In high school, if there was a fight in the cafeteria at lunch, whole crowds of people would gather around to watch, most of them cheering or yelling, and we would all ask each other what was going on, who was fighting, was someone cheated on, and all that.  And it was always so easy to start a conversation with someone you might never talk to ordinarily.  I was much more shy back then than I am now; these days I can start a conversation with just about any stranger on any sort of completely inane or incredibly profound topic.  Whether they are quick enough to muster a response is, of course, another story…  

But back in high school, sometimes I just wished a semi-truck would blow through the wall; no one would get hurt, of course, there would just be the funny destruction of part of the high school auditorium.  You know.  Whoops!  Then I could say something to the people I never knew how to say something to.  It would be socialization at it’s most imminent.  When sometimes you can’t even say hi as your friends walk past without seeing you, you hope something around you blows up just so later you can ask them about it.  Because who doesn’t want to talk about a blown up wall?  It’s the natural introvert’s plea graciously accepted; something from out there comes in to move him out of his head and into conversation.

But it’s so funny when I go to a party, and I have this overwhelming desire to relate to all the people around me. Sometimes, things just aren’t as easy when something hasn’t blown up and affected everyone around it.  Being in a room full of people you could never fathom engaging is miserable.

What frustrates me is when I go to a party, and there’s all this awkward tension.  I love talking to strangers, but in unfamiliar environments, as I’m sure is true with many, I’m not always perfectly comfortable or perfectly laid back.

I went to one fraternity party my first year of college.  It was at the Sigma Chi house.  Everyone was centered on the dancefloor, rubbing their asses all over each other, one big seething mass of clothed sex.  This is, of course, the state of the dancefloor these days.  You see these girls out there, trying so hard to achieve something with their hips, looking back over their shoulders to see if they’re doing their job well, the guys behind them, steering, with more than an agenda to push.

Of course this isn't dancing.  This is dry sex in a public place.  But does anybody really care?

Honestly, if I could pick, I would trade every bump-and-grind dancefloor for one of those super classy, elegant, shirt and tie sorts of affairs, filled with well-dressed, classy individuals with swing music or Frank Sinatra playing instead of songs by rap artists and idiots.  I want so badly to enroll in a ballroom dancing class, to learn how to actually dance, so that when I find the woman who’s right for me I can win her with charm and sophistication.  We can practice our step, I can spin her, and we can engage each other in these complex, synchronized physicalities that many people won't ever understand.

But how many other people are actually willing to be a part of this?  This isn’t 1950.  Go to any club or party with a dancefloor and you’ll see exactly what I’m talking about.  People don’t want to screw around, they just want to get aroused and then get laid.  You see it in every movie, in every television show, in every book, in every radio pop song.  The whole world wants us all to be so aroused all the time.  Why?  So we'll be more vulnerable to advertisement?  It's global sexual arousal, 24/7.  You can order sex on television in fancy, expensive hotel rooms or build it out of harvested gas station bathroom minerals.  You can purchase it on smoky street corners or find it in dark 2:00am rooms by the glow of your laptop computer screens. 

Does anyone else feel like sex should be treated better than this?  Does anyone have any faith that these habits and practices can ever change for more than just the individual?  What about for society as a whole?  Will we always use sex to sell our products, to convince us to act one way or another?  Will every great thing – airline travel, alcohol, sex, medicine, whatever – will they always be exploited, abused and made into slaves? 

Probably so.  But what can we do?

And how could you ever hope to wrap something up that starts with 9/11 and ends with sex without at least quoting Pink Floyd?  From their song, “Breathe,” I'll leave you with this affecting stanza:

Long you live, and high you fly

But only if you ride the tide

And balanced on the biggest wave

You race towards and early grave