Voices: Absurd Recreation

I thought the world could not possibly put forth anything more ridiculous than Debbie — excuse me, Deborah — Gibson’s assertion that her Playboy photos were better than those of ‘80s rival Tiffany. Then I discovered extreme ironing. You really have to see it to believe it, but the ‘sport’ is exactly what it sounds like. Participants iron their laundry while engaged in the extreme outdoor activity of their choice.

I’ve learned to accept the reality that many things in life do not make sense. For instance, it boggles my mind that United States officials could waste a week’s worth of the world’s time at this year’s Global Women’s Conference while waiting for the U.N. to amend its declaration to better reflect the view of a conservative anti-choice American minority. Yet I’ve come to expect such grandstanding from the Bush Administration.

Yes, some absurdities piss us off: others make us laugh. And it’s the latter kind we turn to with gratitude when the other kind pile up and poison our perspective. I guess that’s why I spent longer than necessary browsing the photo gallery at www.extremeironing.com this week. I was hooked from the moment I glimpsed one young man standing knee-deep in ocean water with his torso bent over an ironing board. I laughed out loud and to the dismay of my co-workers (well, Gene Padden) I continued to giggle for almost an hour. It was happy imagining people ironing while whitewater rafting or rock climbing or while attempting gymnastic feats. Move over AFV (like KFC, America’s Funniest Videos went out with the 20th Century); nothing’s funnier than the sight of a man bungee-ironing in his backyard.

It was a sight that made the recent New York Times story that ‘$200,000 is the new $100,000’ easier to digest. Apparently an income of $100,000 is no longer enough to fund the mythical American Dream. There’s not even enough money left to put the kids through college and take a vacation, one interview subject groaned. Granted, I’d rather pay rent in Scranton than New York City or San Francisco any day. But I’m thinking the redefinition of luxuries as staples and of fringe benefits as entitlements is an even greater factor here than inflation of expenses. Yet, with a national deficit so large, it would be absurd to expect our individual citizens (at least those who count, meaning those above the poverty line) to restrain themselves. OK. Stop. Breathe. Extreme ironing take me away.

Wait a minute — how is ironing on railroad tracks extreme? Even I could do that. It sure looks funny though. That’s it. I don’t care if it’s already March, I’m ordering the Extreme Ironing 2005 calendar. Bear with me a moment; I think I’m on to something. What if extreme ironists mean to put forth a deeper message? Retreat from the everyday demands of life is no longer possible for many of us. In this new century, we are expected to answer our cell phones 24-7 and answer our email daily without fail. Have the drudgeries of every day life — exemplified here by ironing — become inescapable? Is recreation but a fleeting illusion? Yes, you can climb Mt. Everest but not without a metaphorical ironing board on your back and wrinkled shirt on the itinerary. Hmmm...

Some things strike us as odd because we lack sufficient information to properly characterize them. Take last week’s trial of accused child molester Doug Lane. One witness reportedly came all the way from Missouri to testify on behalf of Lane’s reputation in the Balloon Federation of America. Out of context, it sounds random. Was there no one closer who could speak for the man? Had he no weightier affiliations? But maybe when the BFA’s got your back, that’s all you need. I mean, who am I to knock extreme ironing until I’ve tried it? Maybe I would find it exhilarating.

It may shock you as much as the bad reviews of Kirstie Alley’s “Fat Actress,” but I’m not real big on cleaning house. A 1940s-retro Anne Taintor postcard of a reclining, smiling woman sits on my desk. It reads “I dreamed my whole house was clean.” Some days, that’s about as grand as my daydreams get. In fact, the first luxury I decide to make a staple might be someone to do that dirty work for me.

I sit here and laugh at extreme iron enthusiasts as a means by which to avoid my frustration with all that’s ugly in the world. But the greatest absurdity might be that they, not I, have stumbled onto something. They’ve found a way to transform a tedious household chore into a pleasurable pastime. In what way is that ridiculous?

-- alicia grega-pikul, 10 March 2005

Send email to: apikul@timesshamrock.com.