The Two-Hundred Year-Old Dilemma

I feel like approximately fifty percent of the average blogger's posts are about how they haven't posted in, like forever, so I'm going to spare you all the tedium inherent in this (the other 50% are about their cats, by the way) and just press on.

I'm going to challenge you with a problem that's been dogging me for the last month, one so deep that its profundity is only outweighed by its relevance. I speak, of course, of the dilemma of the Childlike Empress.

Anyone who grew up in the 1980s won't require an explanation but for thsoe that did not, the Childlike Empress ruled over the mythical world of Fantasia in the novel and later film version of The Neverending Story. Described as "much older than the oldest inhabitants of Fantasia. [...] or rather she's ageless," the Childlike Empress embodied the form of an "indescribably beautiful" ten year-old girl whilst ruling over the citizens of Fantasia as the physical manifestation of it's life force.

I recall watching this movie for the first time in Miss Finley's grade one class at Trafalgar Elementary school and thinking to myself, probably for the first time, "now that girl is pretty cute." Up until that point, girls had merely served as a vector of boogers, cooties and general, unspecified evil. The Childlike Empress really opened my eyes to their potential, not only as companions, but as unelected, omnipotent governesses of worlds that were far cooler than my own. I was smitten and while most of the movie made me cower with fear, the visage of the Empress still serves as a reminder of the commencement of the slow degradation of youthful innocence into salacious adulthood.

Now let me make it abundantly clear that, despite her being partially responsible for certain 'awakenings' at a young age, I do not in any way, continue to harbour feelings of any kind for either the character of the Childlike Empress or the actress that portrayed her. This should in no way be interpreted as the desperate cries for help from a closeted pedophile. I just happen to find the debate engaging in a very superficial way.

Suspension of disbelief for this discussion is paramount.

Let's suppose that the Childlike Empress is actually, for the sake of argument and the impossibility of defining the term 'ageless,' two hundred years old. For whatever reason she is here on Earth and, via circumstances too potentially inane to properly define, she happens to meet someone (likely but not necessarily a male) in their early thirties. They strike up a conversation wherein she is revealed to be the only two hundred year old person in existence.

Despite appearing to be an adolescent this is, without question, the most interesting person who has ever walked the Earth. She's lived through the industrial revolution, the American Civil War, the invention of flight, discovery of penecilin, Hitler's rise and fall etc, ad nauseum. Her knowledge and experience are simply unrivaled and her stories put the "Oh my God, did you hear what happened to Kim Kardashian" mentality of today's humans to shame. This person is, not surprisingly, drawn to the Empress in ways that are as confusing as they are compelling.

So the question then arises; if the two parties in question mutually agree to commence a romantic (but not necessarily sexual relationship), who is the pedophile? The thirty-something Earth dweller can be argued to be a sexual deviant for romantically pursuing one who appears to be a pre-pubescent human female. Conversely, the 200-year old woman could easily be argued to be exploiting the inexperience and relative naivité of the emotionally immature member of an inferior species who is one sixth of her age.

Trouble abounds! Is this a couple doomed to heartbreak, or worse - prison? Is this union any more morally bankrupt than 84 year-old Hugh Hefner getting engaged to a 24 year-old woman? The famous case of man on Jerry Springer wedding a horse? Charlie Sheen getting married to anyone? I submit the solution is not as simple as it would appear upon first consideration.

I'm not purporting to have an answer but I can state with full honesty that I hope I never encounter an ageless, ethereal super-being of limitless knowledge at an amusement park or something. The social and ethical ramifications and subsequent fallout would be far beyond what I would be reasonably expected to comprehend. I can't even decide whether it's right or wrong to take more than one free sample from the old ladies at Costco, much less handle something of this magnitude. Perhaps I'll email Steven Hawking for advice on this one. I'd wager he likes that movie too.

Tipping: Maybe it IS Just a City in China After All

While chatting with a friend at the beach the other day, the topic of our conversation turned from the usual subject matter of "which member of the Full House cast turned out the hottest?" (my vote goes to Jodie Sweetin, while he's a Stamos man) to that of cab fare gratuities. A rather heated debate ensued and relations cooled to the point of approaching Russian/Georgian proportions. It seems my friend, let's call him "Matt" was chagrined at the perceived duplicitousness of his previous evenings' cab-driver. Throughout the course of the ride, the driver regaled Matt with some hard-luck story about how difficult his life was i.e he had five kids to feed, was deeply in debt and had fallen victim to the infamous kidney thief in Korea, etc. Boohoo.

Once the ride ended and Matt had handed over his cash, the cabbie inquired as to whether or not he could keep the change. Believing the entire story to be little more than an effort to coerce him out of his hard-earned toonies, Matt steadfastly refused, preferring to "round up" by means of leaving the cabbie with the coinage and taking any bills. I couldn't weasel an exact number out of him but I suspect the final remittance was somewhere South of $2.

I've always been under the impression that the appropriate amount to tip a cab driver is somewhere in the 10% ballpark with that percentage being raised substantially if "The Company" is picking up the tab. Matt argued that, unlike waitressing , there was no accepted social norm regarding cab-driver gratuities in Canada and that eschewing the tip entirely was perfectly within the realm of culturally acceptable behaviour. Rounding up, in his estimation, was entirely sufficient, if not generous. I warned him that while it was of little concern to me whether he chose to tip or not, he did run the risk of not only the driver but fellow passengers regarding him as a cheapass.

Needless to say this did not go over well but I am willing to admit I could be way off base here. It was pointed out to me that cab-driving economics are nebulous at best. Conversely, leaving 15% at a Canadian restaurant seems to be the accepted social norm, this money is given with the knowledge that the waitress is not earning more than the minimum-wage standard of $8 per hour. But how much does a driver make? What portion of the fare actually goes to him and to what degree is he on the hook for the maintenance, the rising cost of fuel and the physio and drug-therapies necessary following the requisite violent muggings? For all anybody knows, these guys are making thousands a night and buying up Faberge Eggs by the dozen. Shouldn't their wage be payment enough?

In all seriousness, although I've little concern that these men (they're always men) are starving, I'm by no means convinced that Robin Leach is going to be contacting them about their champagne wishes and caviar dreams anytime soon. I think most people are unaware that a cab license in Vancouver costs over $400,000, a rather daunting sum for young, urban professionals, let alone for someone that has likely recently immigrated from a developing nation. I believe these men rely on their tips just as a waitress does and provide an equally, if not more, valuable service.

Seriously, how much talent does it really take some bimbo at Earl's to bring a table full of college kids some jalapeno poppers and tepid jug of "Rickard's Red?" My interactions with serving staff are frequently monosyllabic and my yam fries generally have more charisma. Good cabbies, on the other hand, actually display modicums of driving skill and are more than happy to chat your ear off about cricket and the enthralling political situation in their country of origin. In fairness to the Earl's girls, drivers very rarely giggle, brush your shoulder lightly and say "Oh, you..."

So at this point, I really need to turn it over to the reader(s). I'm interested in your proverbial two cents on your cabbie-tipping tendencies. Am I the classic fool, forever destined to be parted from his money or magnanimous humanitarian, able to empathize with the cab-driving everyschlub? Let's settle this raging debate once and for all, and more importantly, let's help the "differently employed" (i.e me) win twenty bones from my friend.