Domino's on the Des Plaines
Reflections on Contentment, Consumerism, and Kayaking the Mighty Des Plaines
Shortly after Courtney and I got married, we spent some of our hard-earned wedding gift cash on an Intex Explorer K2. That’s an inflatable two-person kayak.
Our area does not have an abundance of navigable waterways, but the kayak has been an enjoyable way to get outside, get a little bit of exercise, and smell the stormwater runoff trees and hear the birds as we paddle along the mighty Des Plaines River.
I’m on spring break right now, and finding that as much as I have craved “rest” and “a break,” I now “don’t have anything to do.” I had a brief stint of getting into March Madness at the beginning, but now there is a lull in the action and I need to wait for this weekend to fire my bracket up again. I’ve done a lot of reading - that’s cool. Walked the dog. Laundry. Stuff like that.
Courtney asked me to go on a walk with her on her lunch break on Tuesday. We went to a new coffee shop down the road from where she works, and as we ambled back I couldn’t help but notice how nice the sun felt, even though it was a moderately chilly day. Then I remembered driving past the mighty Des Plaines the day before, noticing how high the water was. That’s it, I thought to myself. I’ll go kayaking.
So I went. Forty-five minutes of driving and two closed canoe launches later, I settled on a little spot right off the highway that we’ve used before. I parked, pulled the deflated kayak out of my car, and began the undignified process of using a hand pump to inflate what is essentially an oblong raft to get it seaworthy.
A guy and his son showed up to go fishing along the banks.
“Nice boat,” said he.
“Thanks,” said I. “It's great how it folds up and fits in my trunk.”
He shrugged. That was the end of that interaction.
Once underway, I had to paddle furiously to fight the current to get far enough upstream so that I could then float down for long enough that I could convince myself that it was a leisurely experience.
But once I did. Man. It was beautiful. It’s not the world’s greatest river, but there’s something about floating down a swift current, laying back and watching the trees sway and the clouds pass overhead. I saw some deer feeding along the riverbank, and a small creature emerging from the water that may have been a rat but I convinced myself was “probably a vole” or some other bucolic river creature. I was content. A man at peace with nature. Reflecting on Lewis and Clark.
And then. An infinitesimally small “ping!” from the watch on my wrist.
The notification:
This thought immediately popped into my head:
I want Domino’s so bad.
I’ll admit that this thought first amused and then frightened me. I love Domino’s. Garlic seasoned crust? Cheap? Say less. But here I was, floating on this “river,” working on being content and resting, and a notification for cheap third-rate pizza was all it took to make me discontent and focus on what I didn’t have, wanted to acquire, and therefore needed to purchase.
Was I a man at peace with creation, plying hitherto-unexplored waters, or a mere pawn at the hands of a fast-food algorithm?
Here I was thinking of Walden, Emerson, the Hudson River School painters, voles. Then, I thought of the Domino’s tracker. Real-time updates. The stretchy cheese on top of a $7.99 large pizza, only 50% of regular menu price.
What happened?
I’ve noticed recently that on top of push notifications and Chipotle TV commercials,1 I’ve become much more susceptible to billboards. I used to take pride in “not being affected by advertising,” but it seems like recently I have been very affected by advertising. Perhaps I’m losing my neuroplasticity. Maybe I’m becoming more consumeristic. Or, more likely, I’m more aware of something that has always been the case.
But man, I hate that. I don’t want to be at the beck and call of a corporate intern writing push notification copy. I want to be independent. To love what is good, true, and beautiful. To get into “literature.” And here I was, floating down the mighty Des Plaines, thinking about a pizza coupon.
I am proud to report, dear reader, that by the time I made it home there was not enough time before our dinner plans to order pizza. I will chalk it up to my superior self-control and ability to delay gratification, etc, etc.
This experience made me realize just how guilty I am of being sucked into the gaping maw of entertainment, doom scrolling, self-medicating with food, and the relentless hamster-wheel that is discontentment and restless dissatisfaction. I struggle with stillness. Why do I not focus on the many, many good things I have? Why do I need to entertain myself? Why can’t I just do nothing? Why not just take a nap?
I wish I had concrete answers to these. I know what Jonathan Haidt has to say. But as much as my phone / the pace of our world today / the knowledge economy / aliens are to blame for this, there is a deeper soul-weariness issue that I cannot ignore.
Today, I’ll try to rest. Let’s hope that my McDonald’s rewards points aren’t about to expire.
On Monday, Court and I were watching March Madness when a Chipotle commercial came on, advertising their new Honey Chipotle Chicken. Guess where we went to dinner.