By Julieanne Leupold

I walked in the door and strained my eyes to see in the darkness, but I just couldn’t make it out. Slowly, I pushed my way through the crowd of swaying drunks toward the ever-elusive dance floor. The small wooden surface seemed to be engulfed in a swirling mix of colors and bodies.

I clawed a minimal amount of space on the floor just as “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” flowed from the sound system. I started toe-tapping and shaking my hips to the rapid beat while singing at the top of my lungs about Johnny’s golden fiddle. For those of you who have heard me sing – don’t worry, the music was loud.

I threw my head back preparing to belt my favorite part of the song when two hands encircled my waist and tried – very unsuccessfully – to match the rhythm of my movements.

He didn’t ask or even attempt to introduce himself.

He just started dancing up on me.

It took about half of the song with me standing rigidly still for him to get the hint to move on. The whole time I was thinking, “Whatever happened to the concept of personal space?”

In communication theory we learn about proxemics – the use of space while communicating. I always believed that a person was entitled to three feet of personal space.

I didn’t sign a waiver when I entered the dance floor relinquishing those three feet, nor did I invite the violation of that personal space. So it got me thinking – where in our society did we decide to give up this small element of personal dignity?

It could have started with public transportation where subway and bus seats were designed for efficiency, not personal comfort, and where you will inevitably end up sharing half of your seat with some equally annoyed stranger.

Or on airplanes when that invisible bubble is undoubtedly going to be invaded by some sleeping passenger who will drool on your shoulder, or where that overly friendly woman who wants to share her medical history while reading a book over your shoulder.

Regardless of how it started, the concept of personal space isn’t a priority in today’s society.

Please don’t get me wrong – I like people. I am not some antisocial quack who can’t stand anyone getting within restraining order distance from me. I hug my friends whenever we say hello or goodbye. I dig my dance class where contact isn’t only optional, it’s required.

But those are my choices.

Somehow, tolerating some sweaty, smelly boy with no rhythm and slurred speech in my personal space just isn’t so cool. Perhaps I am just too picky about that whole personal hygiene thing.

It just seems that in a college world that demands so much from you – good grades, extra curriculars, new friends, difficult situations, etc. – that three feet of personal space isn’t too much to demand back.

January 31, 2002