Every once in a while, I am forced to ask the hard questions. I say “forced” because although no one is physically making me type this, I will lose sleep if I cannot ask these questions over the internet.
Do you ever catch yourself doing something, anything, and wondering why you are doing it? I mean really wonder, by taking a minute to just sit there and think. Why do we ask dogs if they are good boys? Why do people own vests? Why are eggs considered a breakfast food? Why do I feel the sudden urge to stand up, wave my hands in the air and violently scream at a camera when I am attending a sporting event?
Some people, who understand how to act in a civilized society, will simply wave or try and get their kids to notice when the camera pans over to them. Simple acknowledgement of the camera’s existence should suffice. Others, apparently even at a young age, can recognize the absurdity of the “camera has been recording me for an uncomfortable amount of time” situation and turn the tide to produce absolutely hilarious moments in pointless history.
Yet still, there are people that decide that this is the moment that they have been waiting for to establish alpha status as only they know how: by shouting into oblivion with relentless intensity. The question that is posed is… why? Why do this? Why is this an acceptable behavior? I remember playing football video games that would show fan reactions in between plays and even then you see these “people” screaming and pointing at the camera. OK as I typed that example, I realized that when attending a sporting event and your team does something positive, your reaction is to lose your mind. I feel this is justified. However, to add some scope to the original topic at hand, I am concerned with the attitudes and cultural rearing of the people that are solely reacting to the camera and not the actual event.
Let’s try something. An exercise, if you will. I want you to close your eyes and relax. Emphasis on relax, it’s about to get real.
You are at your favorite team’s stadium, finally seated. Second level. Decent seats. Looking forward to this night all week. You have successfully suppressed the dueling feelings of overwhelming anger and utter helplessness that enveloped you just a short thirty minutes ago… After being stuck in traffic for the third time today within a 10-hour window, only to then hand over $35 for a parking space location that still requires you to use a pedestrian bridge that extends over a highway to bring you to a 20 minute standstill of a line winding outside of the entrance. While in line, through clenched teeth you are pressured to answer your daughter’s repetitive questioning of why she couldn’t stay home (BECAUSE THIS IS WHAT WELL-FUNCTIONING, HEALTHY FAMILIES DO HONEY!). The memory of the price of the tickets is drowned out by the more recent and palpable cost of the “premium” Bud Light that your son just kicked all over the row in front of you by climbing over your lap to see the video of two fawns using a crosswalk while at an intersection that your wife has been replaying on her phone for the past half inning. While feigning apologies to the now soaked fans of the opposition who are shaking their heads at you in contempt, if by design, a cameraman (or cameralady, it is 2020) levels their instrument about 8 inches from your face, insisting, nay begging you to do something. What do you do?
This has been the latest installment of “Who Gives a Shit?”