SNEW, PART TWO: NATIONAL SMILE DAY?

Hey Readers,

How are you? I'm in a really good mood right now, fresh from my smile experiment. As promised last week, I conducted this bit of research, smiling for (at least) a half mile walk on a pedestrian-trafficked street. Well, I will preface my report by saying that what started out as a half mile turned into about a mile and a half! Apparently, smiling can be addictive, even for your garden-variety curmudgeon (a category under which you would definitely find my name, photo, and fingerprints.)

So, as I started down towards the Main Street area of Santa Monica/Venice, adjacent to my home, I couldn't help but feeling a little nervous about what was to transpire. When I made reference to a straitjacket last week, it was only partially hyperbolic. Though I found it a bit straining to smile while gulping back a nervous mole hill in my throat, I resolved to keep up the good work, as it were. In fact, I decided to throw myself to the wolves and not only perambulate down Main Street with a smile on my face, but do some (smiley) shopping at the Sunday farmer's market. What I noticed at first was that a lot of people were looking right past me and my goofy grin. I figured my sunglasses might be the culprit, so I removed them, and allowed the games to truly begin. Once I did, I was slightly disappointed at first, to notice that some people were still looking right past me... I told myself this was a coping mechanism: How do you deal with another human being smiling right at you in the middle of a city? It's like dealing with any other urban hazard: you shut down, and retreat further into your metropolitan shell. So that's what I reckon these people were doing, and I forgive them.

But then, (and this, my friends, is the sprinkles, the frosting, and the maraschino cherry) my mounting cheek-ache started paying off, as stolid, somber folks started... smiling back. This occurred with both men and women. (Though I'll admit, the men were quicker to smile, and for that reason, I am calling all male readers to conduct this very investigation and report back, so we can all be privy to the flip side.) At this point, I was emboldened to really go for it--even though my allotted experiment window was technically up, I approached fruit and vegetable vendors with an unabashed beam. The result? Discounted produced. Full disclaimer: The market was wrapping up for the day, so farmers were motivated to move product. That being said, the sale price on strawberries was three bucks a basket, and I got them for two--the vendor actually handed me back one of my three dollars! I also got a free apricot, after already having committed to buying a pound. There were other bargains gotten, but I'll spare you the quotidien details.

Saving money on fruit seems reason enough to justify a perma-smile, but let me tell you, reader, there were other benefits. One, I'm pretty sure I cheered up at least a handful of people, including a lonely parking attendant, and a guy with a "visualize whirled peas" bumper sticker on his car. These instances more than balanced out the couple of scornful looks I got from people who really couldn't abide the sight of good cheer. Two, the whole smiling thing actually became habit-forming! When it was time for me to wrap up my research, I found it difficult to wipe the grin off my face. I accidentally smiled at a family with a young baby as I made my way back through the less-trafficked residential street to my house, and guess what? They returned the smile. Even the baby! Okay, maybe not the baby--his face was obscured by a stroller awning--but definitely the parents. But the final, foremost, (and some would say slightly objectivist) reason in support of SWIP (smiling while in public) is that it put me, a self-professed curmudgeon, in excellent spirits.

In conclusion, as "The Killers" have so lyrically urged, I strongly encourage you to "Smile Like You Mean It."

Log on next week for my second great experiment, in which I will spend the day blindfolded.