A friend just died, and we want to scatter her ashes in the national park that she so loved. Do you know if doing this would be illegal?
M.S., Santa Barbara, Calif.
The rules vary from park to park, and even locations where scattering ashes is illegal are heavily trafficked by so-called wildcat scatterers. That gray ash you once noticed blowing down a trail in Glacier National Park wasn’t, as you assumed, the residue of a forest fire. It was a guy named Dave. At some parks, though, the scattering of “cremains”—this is the unfortunate term the government uses—is allowed with a permit under certain conditions. At Yosemite, these include: no scattering near watercourses, no placement of permanent memorials, and, most important, no eulogies—these attract bears, who understand that maudlin speeches are usually followed by cold cuts. Yellowstone actually posts guidelines about how to scatter ashes from the air. For your own sake, though, please check wind direction and speed before commencing.
My college roommate is marrying a woman who is an absolute terror. She’s so bad that we refer to her as Osama. My buddy is blind to her awful qualities, but we all know he’ll see them one day. Am I supposed to warn him about this?
P.T., Madison, Wis.
An acquaintance of mine once told a mutual friend that his fiancée was a “soul-sucking bitch-on-wheels from hell.” Then he got really harsh. Today this couple is, by all accounts, happily married. My suggestion: say nothing and hope for the best.
I am very good about paying my mortgage, but for the first time in five years, I let a payment slip by mistake. The bank quickly demanded $165 in late fees. When I called the bank, the person I spoke with wouldn’t budge on the late fee and told me that there would be an additional $18 fee to pay by check. This is one of the biggest banks in the country, and it could afford to cut me slack this one time. I’m a good customer, so why are they punishing me? And why does processing a check cost the bank $18?
R.E., Atlanta, Ga.
They are punishing you precisely because you are a good customer, and because—unlike the bank—you are not too big to fail. You are, in fact, the perfect size to fail. Moreover, your excellent payment record suggests that you will pony up whatever they tell you to pony up. You have three choices in this situation: go on a public campaign of shaming, understanding that banks are incapable of embarrassment; withhold the payment, and watch your credit score go into the toilet; or pay the fee with equanimity, secure in the knowledge that God loathes bankers. As for that $18: the first 52cents goes to the actual cost of processing the check; $5.70 covers shipping and handling; $2.90 pays the universal connectivity charge; $4.27 goes toward exotic dancers; $1.25 is for a new pole for the exotic dancers; 75cents pays for chlamydia-detection kits; 40cents is for baggage fees; and $2.21 goes into an escrow fund that will be devoted to recruiting unqualified borrowers as soon as the government forgets what happened the last time lenders recruited unqualified borrowers.
The Atlantic spells my name Miek Kampbell on my subscription sticker even though the correct spelling is Mike Campbell. Does the magazine add this personal touch for all subscribers, or just the special ones?
The Atlantic is very sensitive to other cultures and traditions, so as a matter of policy, we translate your name into Canadian before we send you the magazine.