Scream if you want to go faster? Not this year, thank you very much. While a trip to a theme park may be back on the agenda for the summer hols, screaming your lungs out from the top of The Big One is now considered distinctly bad manners. Along with singing and talking really loudly, screaming is an issue in this post-Covid word because of the risk of your infected droplets landing on someone else’s face (Ugh. The word “droplet” is the new “gusset” for me).
In Japan, they have gone so far as to ban screaming in their theme parks, asking visitors instead to “Please scream inside your heart.” Haven’t we all been doing that every day since March? I’m not sure I know any other way.
I don’t remember the last time I screamed out loud. Possibly I was six. My preferred method since then has been to go into the bathroom, lock the door, and stand in front of the mirror with my hands on either side of my head while I mime the classic scream from Edvard Munch’s painting. It’s quiet but effective. It feels the way I imagine real screaming would, but when I come out of the bathroom, it’s as if it never happened. No one has to ask, “Are you OK?” Meaning that I don’t have to say, “Of course I’m not OK, you f***ing f***wit.” Which would be hard for someone raised the way I was. I like the silent approach. I’ve had a quick “scream”. No one else is any the wiser and I’m ready to go about my day, imagining I’m shooting lasers from my eyes at the person who sent me running to the bathroom for my Munch moment in the first place.
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