Let’s not shake on it

Sometimes, you find yourself sitting in the back of the class, just itching to raise your hand and raise a nagging point. But, since you don’t want to sound like a whining gadfly (Saipan doesn’t exactly have a shortage of those), you just stifle the urge to open your yapper.

But thanks to Swine Flu 2.0, and the hysteria surrounding it, I can spot a chance to vent my spleen. So here we go: Wouldn’t it be cool if Saipan got rid of the handshake habit? For one thing, it turns us all into unwitting disease vectors. For another thing, it’s a stupid gesture to begin with.

So why not dispense with it? We could use our exotic, close-to-Asia status to justify our cultural rebellion. We’ll just bow instead of shaking hands. In fact, since I’m on a gadfly roll here, I’ll pipe-dream a bow in which everyone is equal, a simple, equilateral bow that is devoid of any nuance of social status or hierarchy. It will be billed as a charming element of island life, the “Saipan Bow.”

Or, if you don’t like that, then try this: Everyone could invent their own bows, or maybe their own salutes. We could personalize them. I’m thinking I’ll use a slight nod of the head for a bow, then give a quick thumbs up, then screw a stupid smile on my face and then, as a capper, say “Dude!”

Oh, wait, I already do that.

Anyway, as you know, Americans, and those influenced by American culture, get the handshake reflex early in life. It’s a mandatory lesson in gentlemanly behavior. But it’s about as useful these days as a codpiece. And it’s even more cumbersome.

For example, everyone in Saipan, and probably everyone reading these words, has experienced this minor annoyance: You’re sitting in a restaurant, just about to take hold of the cheeseburger you’ve been craving all day, and along comes a colleague of yours who, just your luck, has six visitors in tow. Your colleague, of course, can’t help from dispensing introductions. The hands extend automatically, and you find yourself rubbing more raw flesh than a Bangkok go-go dancer. And you don’t even get a tip or a lady’s drink out of it.

Anyway, now that your burger has cooled to room temperature and the visitors have moved safely out of eyeshot, you scamper to the restroom to wash your mitts, only to discover that (a) somebody is occupying it, or (b) there’s no hot water to wash with, or (c) there’s no way to dry your hands unless you want to rub them on the floor, or (d) uh, whatever.

This all leads to (e), most of us just give up in advance and eat our darned burger.

And, yeah, I know that some genius will suggest (f) that we all just carry some hand sanitizer with us wherever we go, but I’m on a roll here, so (g) go away. The fact of the matter is, germs or no germs, swine flu or no swine flu, SARS or no SARS, bird flu or no bird flu, shaking hands is a ritual best suited to used-car salesmen and campaigning politicians and, frankly, that’s not a ringing endorsement.

Like all useless social conventions, this one is probably perpetuated by some twisted element of psychology. Maybe it’s narcissism. Maybe people think they’re so great that anyone meeting them just can’t wait to touch them.

Oddly enough, we don’t usually shake hands with family or with friends. No, we save the socially-mandated germ exchanges for strangers, or for acquaintances who we don’t like enough to promote to friend status. Logical, that ain’t.

I’m not very worried about germs in general, but, still, in cost-benefit terms, what is the upside of shaking hands? Beyond adherence to social convention, there is no upside, no practical value, to the custom. As for downside, well, this month’s health scare (there were others in the past, and there will be others in the future) provides a good enough excuse to haul this ritual to the Marpi dump.

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Economics note: One of Jim Rogers’ latest interviews was in Time magazine. It will be of interest to anyone concerned with Asia-Pacific economics. I’ll post a link on my blog.