The Marathon/Red Sox Mess of Masses Test
An entry or two back, I had this idea about The Driving Test, as a way to see if people were depressed. Here's the follow up to that test:
Take someone that you've treated for depression, as diagnosed by The Driving Test. (I've got to copyright this stuff.) This person should be, at this point, being considered for out-treatment, or whatever it's called when you're cured for now/let out of the treatment center. What you do is, you drop this person off in the middle of Kenmore Square, at the very moment that the Red Sox crowd gets there after the annual Marathon Monday game gets out, which coincides perfectly with the arrival of the runners in the Boston Marathon. At this point, you have two giant masses: the drunken Sox fans, plus the drunken Marathon fans, all lined up along the same street. The object is this: the patient has to make it from one side of Commonwealth Avenue to the other. Basically has to cross the street.
This is a pretty tough test, because just about every freaking street is closed down for the Marathon, and every place you think to go as a shortcut is the same place that about fifty billion people also think will be a good idea. Plus you have strollers and old people everywhere slowing up the whole process, and you have drunk people stumbling and spilling beer all over the place, and you have some whiny kid who thinks it's just adorable (so do his parents) to play that "don't step on the cracks, just step on everyone else" game. The biggest trick is to go through the Kenmore T station to get to the other side, so that's always the basic plan, which means that everyone tries it and so everyone waits about ten years to get through, risking your life and sanity in the process. Can you imagine being stuck underground, in a tight tunnel with very little air/circulation with about five thousand other sweaty people? I'd rather shoot myself. Which brings me to why this test works: it's a brilliant real-life application method to see if a person is mentally stable. If the patient doesn't end up hanging from one of the traffic lights, you pretty much know he or she is solid enough for the real world.
Can you imagine a one-two punch of The Driving Test and then The Marathon/Red Sox Mess of Masses Test? Why doesn't the DSM think of this stuff? All the real world applications are really invaluable, if you ask me. (For the record, I did make it; it took me 2.67 hours and $100 in Gap purchases to cross the street.)
And as a last note, to acknowledge the Boston Marathon for what it is: a pretty amazing opportunity to witness some pretty amazing displays of human greatness. I mean that, because if you think about it, all these people are publically acknowleding the commitment of about 20,000 people - most of whom are running for causes other than just personal goals, which in itself would be a pretty cool goal - and indirectly, all the cheering people are also acknowledging the importance of stuff like this. I mean, nobody's cheering because they think running is such an amazing talent and they're such fans of the Kenyans who win this. People who don't know each other are cheering just because they're acknowledging that someone is trying to do something worthwhile and great. I really like that idea.
Still, though, and I swear, this is my last note (can I really end on a good note ever?): The truth is, someday, when I am in charge of the world, I'm making a law that prohibits having a home Red Sox game on the same day as the Boston Marathon, even if it means costing me my psychological test fortune, and if anybody violated that law, they'd be beheaded in the middle of Kenmore Square, and that would be that. Partly because of the ridiculous crowd clusterage it causes, and partly because the idea of a ballpark opening at 9 AM is offensive, but mainly because watching someone wolf down three Fenway hot dogs before 10 AM is just disgusting.
Take someone that you've treated for depression, as diagnosed by The Driving Test. (I've got to copyright this stuff.) This person should be, at this point, being considered for out-treatment, or whatever it's called when you're cured for now/let out of the treatment center. What you do is, you drop this person off in the middle of Kenmore Square, at the very moment that the Red Sox crowd gets there after the annual Marathon Monday game gets out, which coincides perfectly with the arrival of the runners in the Boston Marathon. At this point, you have two giant masses: the drunken Sox fans, plus the drunken Marathon fans, all lined up along the same street. The object is this: the patient has to make it from one side of Commonwealth Avenue to the other. Basically has to cross the street.
This is a pretty tough test, because just about every freaking street is closed down for the Marathon, and every place you think to go as a shortcut is the same place that about fifty billion people also think will be a good idea. Plus you have strollers and old people everywhere slowing up the whole process, and you have drunk people stumbling and spilling beer all over the place, and you have some whiny kid who thinks it's just adorable (so do his parents) to play that "don't step on the cracks, just step on everyone else" game. The biggest trick is to go through the Kenmore T station to get to the other side, so that's always the basic plan, which means that everyone tries it and so everyone waits about ten years to get through, risking your life and sanity in the process. Can you imagine being stuck underground, in a tight tunnel with very little air/circulation with about five thousand other sweaty people? I'd rather shoot myself. Which brings me to why this test works: it's a brilliant real-life application method to see if a person is mentally stable. If the patient doesn't end up hanging from one of the traffic lights, you pretty much know he or she is solid enough for the real world.
Can you imagine a one-two punch of The Driving Test and then The Marathon/Red Sox Mess of Masses Test? Why doesn't the DSM think of this stuff? All the real world applications are really invaluable, if you ask me. (For the record, I did make it; it took me 2.67 hours and $100 in Gap purchases to cross the street.)
And as a last note, to acknowledge the Boston Marathon for what it is: a pretty amazing opportunity to witness some pretty amazing displays of human greatness. I mean that, because if you think about it, all these people are publically acknowleding the commitment of about 20,000 people - most of whom are running for causes other than just personal goals, which in itself would be a pretty cool goal - and indirectly, all the cheering people are also acknowledging the importance of stuff like this. I mean, nobody's cheering because they think running is such an amazing talent and they're such fans of the Kenyans who win this. People who don't know each other are cheering just because they're acknowledging that someone is trying to do something worthwhile and great. I really like that idea.
Still, though, and I swear, this is my last note (can I really end on a good note ever?): The truth is, someday, when I am in charge of the world, I'm making a law that prohibits having a home Red Sox game on the same day as the Boston Marathon, even if it means costing me my psychological test fortune, and if anybody violated that law, they'd be beheaded in the middle of Kenmore Square, and that would be that. Partly because of the ridiculous crowd clusterage it causes, and partly because the idea of a ballpark opening at 9 AM is offensive, but mainly because watching someone wolf down three Fenway hot dogs before 10 AM is just disgusting.
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