New York City just made its "Open Restaurants" program permanent. Originally set to expire at the end of the October, the al fresco dining program -- which allows restaurants to use sidewalks and curb lanes adjacent to their business -- is now being thought of as something that will permanently reshape public space in the city.

Along with this announcement, the City also provided clarity on how heating and enclosures may be used throughout the winter months. Electrical heaters can be used anywhere. But propane heaters can only be used on sidewalks and you'll need to get a permit from the fire department. Prior to this announcement, there was an outright ban on propane heaters.

Tents and other enclosures are now permitted, but at least 50% of the side walls needs to remain open for ventilation. Otherwise it gets classified as indoor dining and those rules would then apply. However, fully enclosed structures, such as cool looking Instagrammable domes, are allowed for individual parties provided there's "adequate ventilation." Whatever that means.

This is yet another example of how COVID-19 is forcing us to reconsider the way we think about and use public space within our cities -- perhaps forever. And in this particular case, it'll be interesting to see to what extent cities embrace dining outside in the winter. Some of us already do it when we, for example, après ski. Could the same thing work in our cities?

Photo by Aleks Marinkovic on Unsplash

This recent article by Amanda Mull makes an interesting argument about "Why Americans Really Go to the Gym." In it she argues that gyms aren't just about being healthy and looking beautiful. Part of the satisfaction of working out in a collective space is that, among other things, you get to be around people with similar values and you get to prove to others that you are someone with enough self-discipline to stay consistently active. In her words, "proving something to others is often a big part of proving it to yourself, and that's difficult to do when no one else can see you." Depending on how you interpret this, it might lead you to believe that we're all looking for a bit of validation from others. But I think the other way to look at it is that spaces such as gyms and offices aren't just empty vessels where we come to do our necessary work. They are also social environments that serve some potentially important psychological functions.

The other thing Mull's article touches on is the evolution of physical activity:

In the past 70 years, physical activity in America has transformed from a necessity of daily life into an often-expensive leisure activity, retrofitted into the foundation of people’s identities. As a concept, fitness was a response to the flourishing, sidewalk-free postwar American suburbs and what the fitness pioneer Bonnie Prudden dubbed “the tyranny of the wheel”: Americans went from strollers to school buses to cars, stripping out much of the on-foot transportation that had long characterized life in cities or on farms. “In the ’50s and ’60s, the body became a problem, and exercise developed—it had to develop—because people realized that we were all going to die of heart attacks,” Shelly McKenzie, the author of Getting Physical: The Rise of Fitness Culture in America, told me.

In short: we had no choice but to create a fitness industry because we systematically removed physical activity from our daily lives. You could argue -- as the above excerpt does -- that this was largely because of suburbanization and changes in mobility. But I don't think that's everything. We also changed the kind of work that a lot of us do and created technologies that allow us to do more without, frankly, moving all that much. Today, doing good work and being productive is often characterized by sitting still for extended periods of time and subsisting on empty calories so that you don't have to lose focus for very long. Indeed, working out our bodies, and consequently our minds, has become somewhat of a luxury.

I have been trying (albeit not very hard) to come up with the best way to describe the stinky hand sanitizer that is going around these days. Then today somebody in the office described it as bad tequila and I immediately thought, "yup, that's exactly it. It's bad tequila." See above tweet.

Turns out, there's some science behind this stink. Here is an article by Gregory Han from the New York Times that was shared in response to my tweet. And here is the excerpt that explains where this stink comes from:

“That off-putting smell—sometimes described as rotten garbage or tequila-like—is the natural byproduct of ethanol being made from corn, sugar cane, beets, and other organic sources,” explained Zlotnik. “[Ethyl alcohol] production is highly regulated. It stinks because these new brands—many made by distillers who’ve pivoted from producing drinking alcohol to meet public demand for hand sanitizer—are making and using denatured ethanol. This ethanol costs significantly less than ethanol filtered using activated carbon filtration, which would typically remove almost all contaminants and the malodor with it.”

Those organic contaminants aren’t the only reason unfiltered and denatured ethanol smells downright foul. According to Zlotnik, denatured ethanol is also intentionally tainted with an unpalatable cocktail of chemicals (denaturants) such as methanol, acetone, methyl ethyl ketone, and denatonium to make it undrinkable. In other words: The base material is intentionally stinky.

So now you can judge accordingly after you've cleansed your hands with rotten garbage tequila.

On a somewhat related note, Jill Lepore has an interesting piece in this week's New Yorker about the great indoors, and how quarantine has forced us to spend even more of our time indoors. (Though, that hasn't been the case for me this summer.) Here's a snippet:

The Great Confinement varies by place and by wealth, and, historically, it’s new. “Over several millennia, humans have evolved from an outdoor species into an indoor one,” Allen and Macomber write. Citing E. O. Wilson, they explain, “We evolved in the African savannah’s wide-open expanses, intimate with nature and seeking protection under tree canopies,” and so “our genetic hardwiring, built over millennia, still craves that connection to nature.” To satisfy this craving, photographs of redwoods adorn hospital waiting rooms; you can pop into the Grand Canyon via Zoom. I used to think these dodges were better than nothing, but I’ve changed my mind. Zoom is usually not better than nothing.