A Broken Glass Rant and Celebration (Feat. a Breakdown of Modern Music)

Let me make one thing clear, I am not celebrating broken glass, nor am I a fan of broken glass in general. I am far from it. I get sick to my stomach just imagining the travesties that can be brought upon us through the breaking of glass. Eventually, in this blog, I will celebrate the removal of broken glass that's all. 

You're probably wondering what the specific broken glass is I'm referring to. If you aren't, this blog is not for you and you should leave. Let me set the scene for you. It's the beginning of January and I just got to Greece. I'm walking down a busy road about 20 minutes outside of downtown Athens. I listen to my friends converse with each other on the way to the metro station. My hood is up due to the piercing wind and sounds of cars and mopeds cutting through the evening air. I have a hard time hearing what my friends say. If they look at me and move their mouth I respond with "Yeah haha." That's an all-time cop-out. In a friendly setting, you can respond with that to almost anything without creating an issue. Even if the response doesn't make sense, whoever initiated the conversation will likely just pin your response on you being awkward. I can live with that.

At one point on our walk, we go by a gas station/auto parts garage that was playing music very loudly from inside. At the time Greece's COVID restrictions prohibited from music being played inside restaurants. These guys were definitely not a restaurant. We walked past the non-restaurant and our moods were instantly increased hearing foreign rap play way too loud on a speaker that wasn't meant to be played that loud with the bass all the way up. This creates a sound referred to as "Diarrhea music." I'm not a huge fan of the term but it's the only one I know for it. 

This music is typically heard in 16-year-olds cars in the student parking lot school is dismissed. It's the perfect way for new drivers to draw attention to their recently obtained driver's license and their mother's 2011 Honda Accord that they're allowed to borrow on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Diarrhea music consists of the speaker's bass and volume being turned up all the way with the treble turned down. At this point the car relies on God, hoping its speakers aren't completely demolished during Tyler's six-minute drive home. The bass ultimately masks any lyrics or other instrumental aspects, resulting in a non-stop loud and messy rumbling, hence the name. Conversations outside the car are inaudible. Pedestrians are ignored. The driver focuses on the Snapchat video he's taking of him nodding his head to whatever song is playing. Naturally, he'll send that video to 40 different people. He'll use a Snapchat filter that says "chilling" and a caption asking "what's the move." Without looking at his phone, he can't even recognize the song. The music doesn't matter. It's about establishing a presence. At this moment in time, he is not an awkward 16-year-old boy trying his best to draw attention to himself. But an awkward 16-year-old boy trying his best to draw attention to himself and his mother's car. 

After being temporarily brought back to the wonders of high school we walked past a bus stop where there was broken glass all over the ground. I'm not sure what had broken but I had a good feeling it was made of glass. We walked past it thinking nothing of it. This repeated dozens of more times. Each time we wanted to get on and off the metro we walked around a large mound of glass. January-March. Every single time. I began getting annoyed by it. That annoyance turned into confusion. Why was it there? Surely it was someone's job to clean it up. Someone has to know about this glass creating a mockery of the sidewalks in Agia Paraskevi. Maybe this was happening in all suburbs of Athens. Broken glass from an unknown glass object plaguing the sidewalks. At this point that seemed more reasonable to me than someone simply not doing their job. I don't want to sound like a big complainer as I try my best not to.

However, this glass was there for so long, like an unfathomably long time. I don't even know for sure how long it was there, it could've been there for months prior to our arrival. Maybe it was one of those public art exhibits that blend in with the urban environment. There could have been profound meaning behind it, perhaps representing the economic crisis Greece has been going through. Maybe it called for a smashing of barriers between those of different race and class, beckoning citizens of not only Greece, but the Earth, to come together as one. To this day the questions behind the mysterious broken glass are left unanswered. The day I planned to take a video of me walking past the broken glass, to give unwanted commentary on the situation, the glass was gone. I thought this was strangely coincidental. This proved two things. One being that we live in a simulation, and two being we could finally rejoice. 

I originally planned a broken glass rant blog at the end of the year, but after the glass was cleaned I found myself able to do a bit of both. The broken glass is finally gone. This was a huge win for Athens, Greece, and humanity as a whole. The glass never harmed any of my friends but it got to the point where I would ramble about it every time we walked by, which was tiring for everyone. I sent all my friends in Greece a video of the newly cleaned sidewalk and no one even really cared. I was surprised but I would not let that ruin my good mood. Next time you see a drinking glass, or a glass window, or anything made of glass (excluding broken glass), take a moment and cherish it.