Spectator Sport

I’ve learned over decades that some things are eternal, like taxes, sunsets, and the fact that you can’t fix stupid. You can, however, sit back with a cup of coffee and watch it implode spectacularly, like a slow-motion car crash.

It was 7:03 a.m., the magic hour when the town wakes up groggy enough not to be dangerous but still ambitious enough to try. I enjoyed coffee from my favorite chipped mug while gazing at the station window, which framed the street like a theater stage.

On cue, the performance began.

Two gentlemen, let’s call them Fred and Greg, because naming them anything else feels too generous, decided that today was the day to challenge common sense. They stood on opposite sides of the crosswalk, arguing about who could jaywalk faster.

The debate was heated, unnecessary, and entirely predictable. I set my cup down and grinned; the first sip is for survival, the second is for amusement.

Fred, ever the visionary, decided to vault over a raised median like an action hero whose stunt coordinator had quit mid-career. The result was unheroic and less graceful.

In fact, it was nothing like an action movie at all. Fred landed flat on his back, scattering groceries, dignity, and a very surprised pigeon. Greg, naturally, applauded with a snort of laughter and nearly took a header into a fire hydrant.

The bus showed up, late as always, honking like it had inherited the world’s collective rage. Fred and Greg scrambled aboard, still debating whether hubris or gravity deserved the blame.

I picked up my mug again. Steam curled in lazy spirals, carrying the subtle fragrance of roasted irony.

Stupidity, I thought, is a self-perpetuating art form. You can’t fix it, you can’t legislate it, and you certainly can’t outrun it, but you can sip coffee, observe, and appreciate the sheer choreography of human error.

And really, isn’t that the closest any of us ever gets to satisfaction? Watching the world stumble, while you sit upright, caffeinated, and smug.

I took another sip. The universe rolled on, undeterred, and I, armed with caffeine and a front-row seat, felt nothing but a quiet, sardonic joy.