I live right by Trinity Bellwoods Park, in a very small bachelor, so I have come to see the park as an extension of my home. Sometimes it makes me feel like the most popular girl in the world. Other times it makes me wonder what all these dummies are doing in my backyard.
But I’m not territorial. I don’t own Trinity Bellwoods, and if I did, I wouldn’t be living across from it in a very small bachelor. I’d erect a golden gazebo in the bowl and give out free Creamsicles so that people would like me. I’d also sleep outdoors behind a forcefield. But those are other matters. Right now I want to talk about park etiquette.
Parks fall right smack in the middle of the bathroom-boardroom continuum: public, but not so public that people don’t pee in them. They are the living rooms of the city, if you ignore the fact that no one pees in their living room. And sharing a living room can be a tricky thing. Sharing a living room with people you would never have in your actual living room can be even trickier.
If we were all roommates, we would have house rules. I mean, we do have house rules, in the form of by-laws, but by-laws don’t cover things like setting up a puppet theatre next to someone who is on a date. So I am going to lay out some guidelines for being in the park, and maybe one day they will become by-laws, and maybe by then I will own the park.
Treat the bottle-and-can collectors with respect
I don’t know if other parks have this, but in Trinity Bellwoods, people come around and take your bottles and cans when you’re done with them. The bottle-and-can collectors work hard and keep our park clean and save us from having to bend over in the dark. God love them for what they do. They should receive keys to the city. If a bottle-and-can collector comes by, hand them your empties and say thank you.
When you harass a bottle-and-can collector, you out yourself to the whole park as a twisted individual, because what kind of twisted individual would yell at someone who is essentially picking up their garbage? Furthermore, you bum everyone out by reminding them that evil exists in the hearts of man. In short, you become the garbage. Someone should collect you. It won’t be me, though, because you scare me.
Whatever you’re doing, don’t assume that others want to see you doing it.
As long as you are in the park, you are in someone else’s sightline. Some people forget this, and do things that others don’t want to see them doing, like caress. Some people take advantage of it, and do things they assume others want to see them doing, like writhe about without a shirt on.
The problem is that no one really knows what other people want to see. People definitely want to see the park. They probably want to see whoever they’re in the park with. Beyond that, it’s anyone’s guess. Maybe some people will dig your pecs and be psyched that you came, but others will find your nonsense very distracting and want you to put it away.
Even if you are doing something impressive, like capoeira, it doesn’t give you the right to capoeira up in people’s craws. Find a capoeira corner and do capoeira there. Don’t treat the park public like a captive audience. That’s abusive.
Be mindful of your space allotment
If no one is in the park, feel free to backflip through the whole doggone thing. But if loads of people are there, use your noggin to determine how much space you can reasonably occupy, and stick to it.
This doesn’t apply as much to drinkers and talkers, because human beings who like each other tend to sit fairly close, usually in moderately spaced circles. I’m talking more to frisbee and catch players, who spread as far apart as they can throw, creating a no-man’s land in between.
Everyone needs a place to sit, but no one needs a beaning in the gourd. If the park is really jammed, you’re just going to have to put the ball or frisbee away and play stella-ella-ola for a while.
Every island is an island
Before you go to the park, make sure you have everything you need. That means drinks, cigarettes, food, and friends. Don’t go to the park expecting to find any of the above.
Once you’re in the park, make yourself a little island and stick to it. Don’t wander around trying to make conversation with strangers, or asking them to share the things they brought for themselves (lighters and bottle openers are exceptions). Sometimes strangers make pleasant conversation and even share with one another, and that is a magical thing about parks. But no one stranger can will it so.
Once you’ve made your island, don’t foist your island on other islands. You can play an acoustic guitar, but don’t wail on it, because not everyone likes your wailing. You can listen to music, but at a reasonable volume, because not everyone likes your music. Maybe you think they ought to like it, but realize there is a difference between what you think and what is actually true.
Be wary of your tribal instincts
The best thing to do in a park is to sit with a group of people you think are the best. Thinking of your group as the best can lead to thinking of other groups as worse. Not bad, necessarily, but worse.
But sometimes bad. Maybe another group is playing music you don’t like. Maybe a guy from another group just asked you for a beer. Or maybe you’ve just started hating another group because it’s fun and it makes you feel awesome about being part of your group. This is not a nice-sounding sentiment, but it can easily arise from being in a group among other groups in a park, the same way it can arise from being a nation among other nations in a world.
It’s fine to love your group. I even think it’s fine to playfully riff on other groups, as long as you understand that they may be riffing on yours. But riffing is where it ends. Live and let live, man. That’s what this is all about.
Don’t complain about the people who frequent your park
…because you are one of them. Just be respectful and enjoy the goddamn park.
