Nat Locke: why a portal connecting Dublin and New York is Exhibit A for ‘why we can’t have nice things’

If ever there was a story with the tagline “and this is why we can’t have nice things” it has to be the tale of the portal between New York and Dublin. The creator, an optimistic young artist named Benediktas Gylys, hoped the portal would be a bridge to a united planet. The concept was that the large sculptures with massive screens would live stream what was happening on one side to the other. There was no sound, but it turns out there didn’t need to be. At first, there were lots of wholesome interactions. A girl who lived in New York was able to wave at her parents, who live in Dublin. But, naturally, the niceness didn’t last long. Within hours a very drunk woman on the Irish side spent about 20 minutes grinding against the portal in what she thought was a sexy manner. A rather classless bloke, also on the Irish side, then held up a picture of the twin towers being attacked by terrorists on 9/11, which is offensive on many levels. And then to round it out, a young woman on the New York side decided the good folk of Dublin deserved to see her naked boobs. I can’t say for sure, but I’m assuming they were better received than the 9/11 snap, but still. The rapid decline to degenerate behaviour was, of course, entirely predictable given how rampantly irresponsible we can tend to be. That it was ever considered, particularly between these countries, is slightly mystifying. Between Switzerland and Singapore? Maybe. In fact, it has been done before, between Vilnius in Lithuania and Lublin in Poland, and the fact that we never heard about it suggests it might have gone OK. But not this time. They closed the New York-Dublin portal for a few days so everyone could cool off, and now that it’s reopened, the powers that be have instituted some safety measures. For starters, the screens are shut down late at night, so there is less opportunity for drunken naughtiness. Also, on the Irish side, they have planted some flowers in front of it to keep revellers at a safe, non-grindable distance. Because, as we all know, rowdy revellers with a penchant for flashing body parts at strangers on the other side of the world have a lot of respect for a patch of petunias. In New York, they just put up a fence, because clearly their trust in people died a long time ago. Ultimately, it has proven the fact that many of us are, at our cores, just d...heads who push the boundaries until something perfectly nice is ruined. As further evidence of this, when I was at university on the outskirts of Melbourne, we discovered a loophole at the local pub. If you purchased a bowl of chips for $2 (it was the early 90s — what a time), it entitled you to full access to the salad bar. The first week, about five of us politely scooped some potato salad and coleslaw onto small side plates and topped it with a single bread roll. Not bad for two bucks and a handy way to stave off scurvy for another week. The following Thursday, nine of us dropped by for the chips and salad special, but this time a couple of guys stashed spare bread rolls in their bags and went back for seconds of the Greek salad. By the third week, 15 of us descended like locusts, eating every last skerrick of grated carrot and stuffing rolls into our backpacks like our lives depended on it. Naturally, by the fourth week, the pub was displaying large signs stating that a bowl of chips did not constitute a main meal and, therefore, our salad bar access was denied. Had we not been d...heads about it, we could have enjoyed a few more lettuce leaves with our chips. But no, we had to go and push the boundaries beyond the limits of decency. We only had ourselves to blame. Not being a d...head can be difficult sometimes, especially with the addition of alcohol, and that’s the main reason why we can’t have nice things. We might be able to act decently for a short period of time, but eventually the urge to do stupid things bubbles up until it can’t be suppressed. I mean #noteveryone of course, but it only takes a few people to ruin it for the others. So remember that next time you’re tempted to flash your boobs to the city of Dublin (or anywhere, for that matter).