Looking Down by Chris Klassen

On these steps, on the third step to be precise, it's the best place to observe what's going on.  First, it's a location in perfect balance.  There are five steps in total so sitting on the third means there are two steps above me and two steps below.  Being in balance, both spatially and mentally, that's key to avoiding bias.  It's important to observe and judge with no bias.  Next, it's almost always shaded here, this spot, thanks to the surrounding buildings, so it never gets too hot.  And it's protected from the wind most of the time.  Granted, as far as comfort goes, it could be better.  It's concrete, after all, these steps, and sitting on concrete every day  for hours at a time gets challenging.  It takes discipline and composure to maintain proper concentration.  So shifting position every now and again, that's the right strategy.  Otherwise there's a constant risk of losing all feeling from the waist down.  Severe pins and needles, as the expression goes, is never fun.  It reduces the ability to think clearly.  It distracts.

What else is good about this spot, since it's shaded and set back from the road and the sidewalk, it's well hidden from the view of people, so it's good for judging and seeing what is true.  Not realizing that they are being observed, people act naturally, as their real selves.  There's no pretending.  Also, being on these steps allows great perspective.  It's above everyone, which is perfect and appropriate, even in a metaphorical sense.  It's good to be above everyone.

The street in view, my view, is always busy.  There's a never-ending stream of vehicles, some electric and silent, some still spitting exhaust despite the stigma about air pollution.  Oblivious or inconsiderate, these drivers, all of them.  And here's a curious thing.  One in three cars, it seems, is either black or white.  Black is the absence of all colour.  White is the sum of all colour.  What this says about the owners, what it means about their personalities, is therefore clear.  They're narcissistic and arrogant.  Why?  Because in a black car, they feel superior to the world.  It's the absence of all colour.  They don't need any other colour except their own.  It's the only one that matters.  And in a white car?  They also feel superior.  They feel they deserve all the colours for themselves.  Selfishness and conceit, that's what it shows.

Here's something new.  It just happened.  A tow-truck just drove by, one of the flatbed ones, carrying some type of exotic sports car.  This must be so embarrassing for the car's owner, who probably spent hundreds of thousands of dollars on a car that broke down anyway.  And the car company, if they were honest, which they most likely are not, they would have to concede that spending an enormous sum of money is no guarantee that their product is any good.  Arrogance on one side, thieves on the other, that's the bottom line.

To the right of me, down the street a little, is the main intersection with the traffic lights.  I can see it clearly if I stretch my neck.  It's ridiculous how often cars seem to race each other only to arrive at a red light at virtually the same time.  And even more incomprehensible are the people who decide that stopping is really more of a suggestion than a law.  They're the ones who swerve to avoid a collision and end up wrapped around a pole.  Those are great days for me to make observations though, I have to admit.  Not because of the destruction, that's never the point.  The point is that this is when the idiots get what they deserve and the world makes a bit more sense.

It happened like that a month or two ago.  Or maybe it was last year, I can't precisely recall.  But I remember the actual collision.  A bright orange convertible, such a hideous look-at-me colour, with a driver probably going through a mid-life crisis, tried to beat a red light.  It was clear from my third-step vantage point that there wasn't going to be enough time but, nevertheless, displaying either no care or no logic, the driver tried.  Again, for me, it was an idiot observed.  Probably hopped up on caffeine and arrogance.  The car slammed into the side of a mini-van.  The police and ambulance came, a bunch of people were injured.  It must have been more than an hour before everything was cleaned up.  That was a great day to just sit and watch.  Most days aren't as dramatic as that which is good because, believe it or not, trauma gets boring if it happens too frequently.

Viewing people, on the other hand, simple random people, that never loses its interest.  Everyone is so different.  Picking out faults, observing the idiocy of commoners on the sidewalks with no clue that they should be embarrassed, this is what's fascinating.

Here's a perfect example.  Only a few minutes ago, two men walked by, deep in conversation.  Maybe they were partners, maybe family or just friends, who knows, it doesn't much matter.  One of them was wearing socks and sandals.  He looked ridiculous.  The other was clothed all in red.  Red collared shirt, red pants, red shoes.  Why?  Colour blind maybe, that would at least make sense.  Otherwise how could he possibly believe that he looked good?   And how could his companion not have noticed or, if he did notice, not have the decency to say anything?  Sartorial elegance, they had none.  It was tempting for me to yell out at them, point out their flaws, but better to just stay in the shade and judge quietly.  The point for me is to observe and judge, not instruct.

If ever there was one great time to instruct though, where instruction would absolutely have been warranted, it was on a day last winter.  A freezing cold day, ice on the steps and, even being somewhat sheltered, it was still uncomfortably windy.  Tough day for me to maintain my concentration.  The sidewalks were covered in a slippery layer of snow and the street, which had been salted and plowed, was slushy and ugly.  For some reason, on this day, the local daycare workers, probably failed teachers making minimum wage, felt it was smart to take the little kids for a walk.  Little tiny people, all holding onto a rope in a line, trudging down the sidewalk, crying in the cold, falling down, struggling to get back up to grab the rope and continue.  And the daycare workers, one at the front of the line and one at the back, either uncaring or oblivious, ignored them, let them suffer.  What a trauma for the kids.  Such a bad start to their little lives.  All they're learning is that adults are untrustable.  And what an illustration of adults devoid of common sense and compassion.  Somebody needed to correct them, that's for sure.  They needed correcting.

But back to the present, or at least the very recent past.  No use ruminating any further on an ancient event.  A few days ago, on the same sidewalk across the street, a little kid was riding a bike.  I couldn't tell if it was a boy or a girl - they all look the same these days anyway - but what happened, quite a drama actually, was that the kid's shoelace got caught in a pedal.  The kid lost control and the bike swerved right into the front window of a shop.  Crashed right into it.  The glass shattered and cut the kid's face.  Nothing too serious, certainly not worth all the crying and wailing.  But come on kid, be smart.  Tie your laces properly.  No one ever thinks, that's the problem with society.  A few people came around to help.  They picked the kid up, brushed off some of the glass, got the attention that they themselves obviously wanted, and walked away feeling good and probably triumphant, like they had just performed their duty as responsible public citizens.  From my vantage point on the third step, they were nothing but posers and their actions were transparent.  They didn't really care about the kid, who's fooling who.  Even the shop owner, who came bolting out the front door to see what had happened, chances are his first phone call was not to get help for the kid.  It was most likely to the insurance company to see what kind of compensation he could get.

Usually my days are not this eventful.  Usually it's just simple basic observation of random humans for hours at a time.  But every observation seems to prove the same thing.  And it has been consistent for years, although it's definitely more extreme lately.  Watching unhealthy-looking people coming out of junk-food restaurants proves it.  Watching the poorly-dressed pretending to be fashionistas proves it.  Watching the barely-dressed, shivering outside the nightclub, between the red ropes in the middle of winter, they prove it.  Even the parishioners leaving the church down the street on a Sunday morning, dressed for the Lord in suits and nice dresses, professing love and care, who will later lie and smack their children and cheat at work the next day, they prove it too.

What do they prove?  The never-ending existence of human indifference and inadequacy, that's what.  The perpetual ignorance and inconsideration of everyone, that's what.  From here, on the third concrete step, with two steps above me and two steps below me, in the wind-protected hidden-from-view shade, I'm glad to be the only perfect one left.