So, I'm in a hotel room in Boston, listening to some Moby in my iTunes, and I happen to notice a little blue icon in my list of playlists that I haven't seen before... it says: Joe Below's Music (name changed to protect the identity of the innocent).
And now, I can't help myself but to scan through his list of tunes. It looks nothing like mine. It's like the obsessive/compulsive scanning of friends of friends on Orkut, except here, I can listen to Air Supply, or Gloria Estefan, or Sha-Na-Na, or something called "conjugal visit" which looks suspiciously like it might be a voice memo, so I'm staying away from it.
I look in my iTunes preferences, and I notice that I have sharing enabled too... so he might be perusing my collection of music at the same time. Anonymous intimacy.
There's something creepy about this experience. Hotel rooms when you're by yourself are already a little creepy, since you don't really know what's going on behind that wall. But now, thanks to WiFi and Rendezvous, the walls become virtual and I have a glimpse into one of my neighbors' soul. Or Pop, or Disco, or whatever. Now, I wonder, is he next door? Or above? Or below?
I check the lock on my door. But I also feel a little bit like a Peeping Tom. Is there a word for this phenomenon yet?