Scan Magazine | Humour | Columns
IS IT JUST ME…
By Mette Lisby
Who has become increasingly aware of the cacophony that characterises modern life? The symphony of sounds we are exposed to on a daily basis? Or said straight up: the huge amount of noise our everyday lives are subjected to? I started noticing after a recent visit to Las Vegas. My husband and I were strolling casually down The Strip when the phone rang with work-related questions that needed answering right away, and thus we – phone in hand – started looking around to find a quiet spot where we could have a phone conversation. That was not possible. Every store had music blasting, and every coffee shop had espresso machines growling at us. We were looking for indoor places because, you see, the street in Vegas features loudspeakers playing festive swing music. Yes – on the street. The city of Las Vegas has simply decided to add a soundtrack to your life – every second of it. And it may be an alluring thought to have your life at all times accompanied by swing music, but I can tell you that, after 26 hours, it does get tiresome.
But hey, that is Vegas. Party! Entertainment! Or, as you start referring to it as you get older: noise. Coming back home, I started to notice the wallpaper of sounds we face on a daily basis. The ever-growing traffic, the accidental helicopter, construction work, the beeping from reversing trucks, loud music from passing cars, car alarms, ringing phones and people talking on them. Even in the private sphere, we are met with this tapestry of modern-life sounds. Kids playing video games. The TV is on. The blender, the dishwasher. That is in your own home – then there are other people in surrounding homes. People who have leaf blowers! Why are people with leaf blowers always oddly enthusiastic about using them? What is the deal with leaf blowers, anyway? “Look! I’m blowing these leaves over on this side of the street.” What are you, wind?
Form Every five years, I traipse up to the Swedish embassy in London to renew my passport. If you have to travel any distance, and therefore cannot attend morning visiting hours, you are presented with a one-hour visiting slot, once a week. You will be unable to enter the building until that exact time, which means that you are left standing in the rain, clutching your soggy paperwork, along with the other visiting, wet Swedes. This year, I opted for renewing my passport at a police station in Sweden, which comes with many added benefits, such as indoor queueing and more than one opening hour. It did, however, throw up a different, unexpected obstacle: a Swedish form. The woman behind the counter could not have been more helpful. She explained in great detail what information needed to go where and what boxes I had to tick. Except – of course – in Sweden you do not tick. You
And why – why – would you assume that the leaves that look messy on your side of the street would look any less messy when they land on my side of the street? So that is it. I am heading back to Vegas. If my life must have an ongoing soundtrack, I prefer swing music over random traffic and leaf blowers. Plus, I might get a bit of quiet time on the plane. Mette Lisby is Denmark’s leading female comedian. She invites you to laugh along with her monthly humour columns. Since her stand-up debut in 1992, Mette has hosted the Danish version of Have I Got News For You and Room 101.
By Maria Smedstad
woman asked. “DAD!”, I screamed across the police station. “WHAT’S YOUR ADDRESS?” My panic at this stage must have been infectious, because dad suddenly had no idea. It seemed a miracle that I left with a completed application submitted. The triumph, however, was short lived – because where did I have to collect my new passport? At the embassy in London of course – during the weekly, one-hour slot, in the rain. cross. Too late for me: I had already filled the form with ticks, which the woman eyed in confusion. Then came the dates. Suddenly I had no memory of which way to write them. Year first? Day first? The more she told me, the more my mind stopped working. I was becoming increasingly convinced that I would end up arrested for being a fake Swede. “Do you have a contact address in Sweden?” the
Maria Smedstad moved to the UK from Sweden in 1994. She received a degree in Illustration in 2001, before settling in the capital as a freelance cartoonist, creating the autobiographical cartoon Em. Maria writes a column on the trials and tribulations of life as a Swede in the UK.
Issue 112 | May 2018 | 121