Parallel Play

Written 8 March 2009

You know all that airport stuff that you enjoy doing while waiting for your flight? If you are like me, you enjoy getting a cup of coffee, reading a book or newspaper, listening to music on your iPod, people watching, & many other time killers common to airport terminals. I am waiting at gate B27 in the Cincinnati airport during a three hour layover to Philadelphia from Chattanooga (it was cheaper than flying out of Atlanta, & I was already in Chattanooga for a wedding anyway). This forgotten, and therefore unexpected, wait, in conjunction with the hour of sleep Mr. D. Savings “borrowed” (I understand he will give it back in the Fall, but it sure feels like steeling) from me last night, has provided me with an unpleasantly close encounter with loneliness and a deeper appreciation for past travel companions. All the usual airport time killers seem boring and meaningless. Even though most of them are usually solo activities (listening to music, reading), it seems impossible to ignore the vacant seat next to me - a seat that should be occupied by a friend or sibling, my dad. 

I recently heard the term "parallel play" to denote the concept of shared solo activity. While essentially a developmental psychology term used to describe the social behavior of 2 and 3 year olds, it seems to also be appropriate as a humorous and condescending word for when a bunch of college guys are in a room together, but all playing separate video games. I tend to look down on this scenario (I have been a guilty participant in the past), but I think the concept of adult parallel play is perfectly legitimate. Maybe it is because I am so gregarious or extroverted (I like the word “relational” personally, but of course you can be introverted and relational so it's not the most thorough descriptor), but I don't crave silence or isolation – not even when reading. It would certainly help me concentrate (something I often have immense trouble doing), but one of the best parts of reading is stopping every seven or four or half pages and laughing with the person reading next to you. 

These kind of interruptions are frequent and expected when I read in a room with my brothers Gregory and Charles. For example, Charles will be reading The Complete Far Side, Gregory will be reading a book in the Harry Potter series, and I might also be reading a Harry Potter book or maybe The New Yorker. I may get halfway down the first page of a dense article on the history of the U.K.'s healthcare system before laughter explodes out of Charles' face (I say face instead of mouth because this is the type of laughter that involves the nose and eyebrows as well). 

“Sigh...what is it?” I might say as I put down my article, only slightly annoyed but fully aware that he is going to tell me anyway so it's best to just hear it. 

“OK, it's these deer in a forest with targets on their chests and you see them through the sights of a riffle and one of them is pointing to the other, like he wants the hunter to shoot his friend first! Bwa ha ha!! Gary Larson is a genius.” 

“Cool. I'll have to look at it later.” I go back to reading. 

-90 seconds later- 

“Charles, did you know that [insert surprising fact from the healthcare article]? Isn't that crazy!?”

We might then go for half an hour and say nothing, but if one of us leaves the room the environment and reading dynamic changes completely. 

There is something indescribably valuable about sharing an experience, even if only partially, with another person. It's why we don't go to the symphony, theatre, or cinema alone. It's what makes road trips fun and not simply an exercise in vehicle manning endurance. Even if you don't talk during the car ride, or you stay religiously silent during the movie or ballet, the presence of a valued friend enhances the experience and builds your relationship. 

I'm actually in a rather quiet mood right now. I'm not feeling talkative. But I am a bit lonely. Right now I would love nothing more than to have any one of my family members here. Parallel play is good times, and maybe necessary in mostly empty airports.