Americans Hate Rules. America Has Too Many Rules. What Is Freedom?

Got lost on the way to the train station from the new neighborhood. Probably cause it was in the evening and it was dark out. And I don’t much venture out when it’s dark out. I ended up doing an unnecessary loop on the bike. Was heading there cause I had a .60 coupon for a quick Chinese spot inside the train station. Didn’t feel much for eating leftovers or cooking. And I don’t much like going out to eat dinner by myself here. Got the fried rice with shrimp, spring roll, and a bottle of coke. The last time I ate there a creepy guy kept staring at me. To the point that I stopped right in front of him and kept asking him, “Que t’al?” (what’s up?) And he just kept giving me the same creepy grin. Then I walked away and he kept staring from the door. And I took a pic of him and posted it on Twitter. That will show him! Was he hitting on me? Was it cause I’m Asian? We were at an Asian restaurant. Oh and I swear another old Spanish man spat on the ground, loudly, as he past me. Do old men spit here a lot? Cause the only times I’ve noticed, four times, has been after I walked past them. One of them was walking his lady arm in arm.

After the meal I was heading home and noticed that the bullring that’s been locked up the whole time I’ve been here was open. I’d seen adds for upcoming bull fights. Seemed like the season coincided with Fallas, the big multi-week celebration that’s similar to Mardi Gras or Carnival. The gates were open and people were going in. I looked to see if anyone was working the gates. Collecting tickets? Checking for passes? Checking for weapons in bags? Bombs? Nothing. People just kept going in so I just walked in confidently. Was reminded the importance of acting confident since I’ve been here. If you’re not sure how to pronounce it, say it with confidence and they’ll correct you, apologetically, instead of condescendingly. So I just walked in and people were walking straight onto the field(?). The sandy part where the action happens. Whatever you call it. The infield? There was a tent with people talking in it and a stand selling some things. But for the most part people were free to do what they wanted. People took photos. Posed for photos. Took selfies. Kids ran around.

I too joined in and took photos, added to my IG story, sent a few photos. Then I noticed people in the stands and I decided to venture up. First I hung out by the lower level and then kept climbing. I stopped at the cheap seats. I couldn’t figure out how to get to the luxury seats. Besides, I just assumed that someone would stop me. But again, I didn’t notice a single person working or directing people on where they could and couldn’t go. People were free to do what they wanted to do. So I ventured out again. It was dark. It’s an old place. I walked up stairs. I was trying to get to the area by the big clock. There was a closed door and I was trying figure out how to open it. It made noise. I looked around. I kept waiting for someone to yell at me. To tell me I wasn’t allowed up here. That I should go back down. But nothing. I eventually figure it out and stepped in and took the next level of stairs up.

I was now at the very top of the bullring in Valencia, Spain. It was my first time inside a bullring. And I was allowed to go anywhere I wanted. I was given freedom to do as I wish. And I stood there, looking down at the stadium. Saw people enjoying themselves. Young people. Parents. Kids, Tourists. Locals. And there was no authority figure in sight. Then the wind picked up and it started raining. Pouring. People yelled and scampered about. At one point I couldn’t see a single person in the stadium. I wondered if I was going to get locked inside. It felt both awesome and terrifying. And as I watched the rain hit the seats sideways I wondered why nothing like this could happen back home. Back in America. Back in New York. Are we too big? Do we have too many people? Do we have too many rules and regulations? You treat people like children and they want to act like children? Tell someone they can’t do something and they’ll want to do it more? I see how parents allow their children to run wild and free here. There are young kids playing with sparklers in the street. I see kids run and fall and not get yelled at. I see parents sitting on the benches and talk to each other as their kids jump, fall, and run on the playground. The parents aren’t hovering over them and giving them directions every step of the way. They’re allowed to figure it out. I smell weed everywhere here. There are sex shops out in the open, with classy decor, with toys and tasteful ads in the window. It’s not hidden and cloaked in mystery. They sell condoms and sex toys in vending machines in the street. The drinking age is 18. Maybe it’s because it’s safer here. Actually I don’t know the crime statistics here. It’s not like it’s dangerous everywhere in America. Is it cause everyone is scared to be sued? That if you do something and get hurt you blame someone else for it instead of taking responsibilty? It’s just that we’re more afraid in America. Afraid of everything. Home of the brave?

Fear leads to more restrictions.

Restrictions lead to less freedom.

Less freedom leads to less fun.

Land of the free?

Eventually the rain died out. I walked down. I was still waiting for a guard to tell me I wasn’t allowed to be there.

But I was.

And so I stayed.