European cheek-kiss greetings: an invasion of American space

I think we all know what I'm talking about.

It is a rare occasion when one comes across an American inhabitant who considers such a greeting standard, or even accepted. There are, however, those few-and-far between who take advantage of the freedom of expression preached in our dear country, and these few render this elaboration necessary.

I want to draw attention to the very first line of our national song of praise, "America the Beautiful." It says, "Oh beautiful for spacious skies." I repeat: "for spacious skies."

What, then, is of utmost importance in describing the beauty that is our beloved country? Oh, yes. Spaciousness.

We sing along in resounding agreement. In America, we like our space. We do not hold hands in public. We do not make out on park benches. We ride one person to a bicycle. Even two-person bikes could not establish a place on the market.

We request an extra glass (not straw) to share drinks, and a family-style meal is just a bigger individual portion. Fitting rooms are individual, sectioned off by doors, not curtains. We run marathons down train aisles just to find an empty three-seater, disregarding the open single seats.

I assume we are all following the logic here.

Human contact to Americans is like kryptonite to Superman, like water to the Wicked Witch of the West. It causes discomfort to the point of tangible pain.

Handshaking is our greeting ritual. While successfully moving a step beyond waving, handshakes maintain maximum physical distance between greeting persons.

Handshaking is something with which Americans were undoubtedly far from immediately comfortable, but eventually accepted as necessary formality. Like ripping off a Band-Aid, we have learned to place our hand inside another and in one quick, jerking motion, rip it back out.

But this is our limit. The thought of another person touching more than our hands is beyond what we can bear, and the idea of a cheek-kiss greeting is unfathomable, even frightening.

When a deceivingly innocent offender leans in, an American experiences a sensation much like electrocution. The contact between cheek and lips instills a racing mass of complex emotional and physical sensations that only years of therapy can heal.

Americans typically receive this gesture with either robotic stiffness or limp confusion, and some even attempt to return the action in half-hearted mimicry. None of these reactions should be erroneously taken to indicate gestural acceptance, as each indicates nothing more than the onset of PTSD.