Bong v. Waterpipe at the Love Locks

We had a picnic of dinner Tuesday night on the edge of the Isar River, which cuts through the middle of Munich. The picnic spot was a two-acre (give or take) gravel bar of smooth stones, popular with the locals, including some large white birds with long necks that have obviously grown accustomed to hand-outs from bleeding heart picnickers. Tobias identified them as geese. "I think they're swans," I said. "Geese, Dad." Swans. Geese. Swans. Geese!* Meanwhile, Hannah was saying, "I don't need these big ducks in my lap while I'm eating dinner."

Soon some guy showed up with a shopping cart full of bread, which he began scattering for the birds. "He shouldn't do that," Hannah said. "It just makes them dependent on hand-outs." Tobias said, "I've heard that, Hannah, and it's just not true." Hannah: "I've read a lot of studies that say it is true." Tobias: "I've read studies that say it isn't true." Hannah: "Why should I believe your studies?" T: "Why should I believe your studies?" H: Mine are right. T: Mine are. Mine are. No, mine are.

Having warmed up on the amateurs, Tobias turned to Michelle** over the question of whether some teenagers down the way were smoking dope with a bong or a waterpipe. T: "I think they're using a waterpipe." M: "It's a bong. Waterpipes have hoses." T: "It's a waterpipe, Mom." M: "It's a bong." Waterpipe. Bong. Waterpipe....

I suggested we pour gas on all three arguments simultaneously--Operation Overload!--for the fun of seeing how well Tobias could juggle. He shrugged and said, "Bring it on." But nobody else showed any enthusiasm so peace ensued for two or three minutes. Then we found ourselves down to our last piece of cheese, and the usual suspects reached for their bludgeons and battle axes.

You may be wondering: Is this family gaining any cultural insight or enrichment in Munich, or are they simply disturbing the peace? We were briefly distracted, in fact, by a charming local custom I'll call the love locks. Crossing over the Isar toward the picnic spot on Thalkirchner Bridge, we came upon hundreds of engraved padlocks attached to the wire mesh of the walkway railings, each one a tribute to a romance (and in a few cases, friendship).

I assume the custom calls for tossing the key into the river, thereby sealing your attachment with a sort-of-hard-to-revoke contract. (Like a wedding, minus all the fuss and expense.) I wondered, though, whether both partners retain a key, with implicit rights to undo the lock at any time, and maybe a perpetually nagging question in the back of the head about whether the lock is still there. 


Of course, throwing the key away has it's down sides, too, the obvious one being that love can rust a lot faster than a padlock. I'm sure that makes for some awkward conversations: "I should probably tell you my name is on eight locks down there on the Thalkirchner Bridge." "That's OK, my name is on 11 of them." "What? 11 locks? You round-heeled hussy! How could you?"

Call me a cynic, but what would romance be without the minefields?

*OK, Tobias. I'll concede that maybe they're geese, not swans. But are you sure they're not Bavarian skinnydipping sandpipers? Or Great willied warblers?

**One of my favorite examples of the sharp sparring skill that Tobias stands to inherit is the Washington Square Park incident. Michelle approached a couple of New York City cops sitting in a police cruiser on the edge of the park. She said to one of them, "You know, you should get out of your cruiser and walk around. Studies show that crime is a lot lower when police officers walk around the neighborhood, instead of just reacting when crime occurs."

One of the cops gave it a moment's consideration and said, "Lady, if I you were being robbed over on the other side of the park, do you think you would be better off if I'm on foot, or in my cruiser?"

And while he was probably thinking Q.E.D., Michelle retorted: "What are you going to do? Speed through the park and run over people to catch a purse snatcher?"