The curse of the jet-ski

An F. Scott Fitzgerald biographer by the name of David S. Brown refers to America’s promotion of deviancy (my words) as ‘the great post-Appomattox launch toward materialism’. I liked that line and was thinking about it as I left the boat in the early morning and walked into an almost perfect Greek village square for a coffee. There were some French people blabbing away with their usual hand gestures, Greeks discussing politics at high volume, and then an American couple, both quite attractive, each with a Mac in front of them and absolutely impervious to anyone or anything in their immediate surroundings.

Talk about a launch towards materialism. The two of them never once looked up from their screens. They remained totally glued, expressionless, to that demon plastic – or whatever it is that screens are made of – and failed to look up even when a Greek woman got into a shouting match with an Austrian lady who had taken her chair. In the meantime, they were occupying a table in the café that would have changed hands about three times had it not been for those two extremely annoying Americans. The owner of the café shrugged his shoulders when I told him to ask them to vacate the premises.

Now I know it’s none of my business, but this was hardly a launch toward materialism. It looked more like a storm, a typhoon of blind greed. Mind you, could they have been writing the great American novel? I doubt it and am willing to bet the boat I’m on that it was all about moolah and nothing more. It was, to say the least, dehumanising. Two tables away from them were three old Greek men, with their white moustaches and their caps, sort of leaning on their walking sticks.