Not
fifteen minutes after our train arrived in Paris from Chamonix–Mont Blanc, we
boarded the underground metro en route to Le Montclair Hostel. The train was
crowded prior to our embarkation and even more so after ten people filed in before
Tyler and me. Our transition from the waiting platform to the bus itself went smoothly, but those behind us were not
so lucky. Comfortably situated in
my position, I watched several other citizens cram their way onto the train
before the comedy began. Imagine
the scene in The Lord of the Rings
when Gandalf faces off against the Belrog and yells “YOU. SHALL NOT.
PAASSSS!” In this case, the people
of Paris were the Belrog and the metro car doors were Gandalf.
One
chap managed to entrain only to be stopped in his tracks when the sliding doors
closed on his backpack. People
getting clothing and other objects caught in subway doors has been a
longstanding joke on television and in movies but this was real life, and I was
stoked about it. A look of panic fell
across his face as he struggled to free his bag from the train’s grasp. Once he yanked his backpack free and
the doors reopened, another group pounced on the opportunity to flood the
already imbued train. This time,
the threshold closed even more violently, trapping two women face-to-face. An audible, “OO!” and subsequent
struggles of these women (the subjects) and curses provoked a loud, involuntary
chuckle from me (the spectator). I
watched helplessly, as they reached over each other’s shoulders and forced the
doors open once again. As I stood
bewildered as to why these people refused to wait the entire two minutes and
ten seconds for the next train, another mess of Frenchmen, this time three people abreast, tried to charge the
open gates only to get crushed by
the dismissive portal. It was
chaos, and it was hilarious.
Laughing
fit is an understatement. This was
one of those situations where, even if you try your hardest not to laugh, you
remember the calamity and cannot maintain composure. My attempts to conceal my amusement were honest, but I fear
they were ultimately futile. Whether the subjects of said folly knew I was laughing at them, I am
unsure; other onlookers were surely entertained, making the situation that much
funnier. Surely (hopefully), even
some of the victims could see the humor. If the entire metro car had celebrated the undeniable folly of a few
(including the subjects themselves), this event would have had an immense
impact on the positive energy throughout all of Paris. Seeing as I may have been the only one
laughing out loud, I kept my delight to myself as best I could.
The
next day, we visited the Eiffel Tower and, once again, found ourselves laughing
at the expense of complete strangers. There is an ancient art form I have seen practiced and heard about in
friendly conversation. It is
self-serving but harmless to others; meddling but not truly invasive in other
people’s business; wholly entertaining with minimal risk of detrimental
consequences. This art is known
as, “Taking Pictures of People Taking Pictures,” and it is hilarious. Many
friends have dabbled in this practice but I was a stranger to it before this
Eiffel Tower shoot. The tower is
situated to the northwest of a large park, the Champs de Mars. Imagine the typical tourist picture
with the Eiffel Tower in the background; there is an 85% chance that was taken
from the Champs de Mars. The field
is flooded with people posing, jumping in the air, and pretending to hold the
tower in the palm of their hand – searching for that one great photo of them in
Paris. On the other side of the
lends, photographers contort their body into unnatural positions, lie on their
stomach, and just look goofy in general trying to capture that moment. Either of these subjects, when
photographed from a spectator’s point of view, offer fine entertainment. For some reason, observing other people
involved in a photo shoot is funny. People’s behavior is funny, in general, but accentuated when the lens is
on them.
Right
now, as I reflect on these instances of comedic fortune, I am sitting in the
last row of pews in Notre Dame de Paris. One of the most significant buildings in Paris, its construction began
in 1160 under Maurice de Sully and was completed in 1345 after various remodels
and add-ons. Notable historical
events associated with Notre Dame include: Heraclius of Caesarea called for the Third Crusade (1185);
the Wolves of Paris, a man-eating wolf pack in the winter of 1450 was killed
after being lured into the city by the furious Parisian public (1450); the
coronation of Napoleon Bonaparte – he is a pretty big deal in France (1804);
Victor Hugo published The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1831); Joan of Arc was beatified and canonized (1909
and 1920, respectively); The Te Deum Mass, a celebration of the liberation of
Paris may or may not have been interrupted by sniper fire (August 26, 1944);
Andrew Leede wrote Comedy at the Expense of Others (2011).
Sitting
in this holy place, one of the most important historical buildings in all of Europe,
I write about laughing at the folly of others. While I consider myself wholly non-religious, my agnostic
tendencies fabricate a sense of curiosity and possibility that are exemplified
when around religiously spiritual people or in places of worship. Naturally, while reminiscing of metro
doors slamming on citizens and taking pictures of people taking pictures, I
cannot decide if this situation is:
A) Fitting (confessing my guilty pleasures in a house of
God)
B) Satirically ironic (does Jesus get a kick out of human
folly Himself?)
C) Mildly inappropriate
D) All of the above
This
notion conjures another, bigger question: When is comedy at the expense of a stranger ever appropriate or
inappropriate? What factors
determine said propriety? To me,
it comes down to the subject – the person being laughed at because of their
folly. There are two situations
the subject could be in; they are either privy to the fact that they are being
laughed at, or they are completely unaware. I put forth the idea that if the subject suspects they are being laughed at, they fall into the “aware”
category.
Let
us dissect this, starting with the unaware subject. This is a complicated scenario for many reasons. Should one’s actions be significant
outside of their own personal realm? That is, should one person’s behavior affect those not directly
associated with said individual or should “mind your own business” be the way
of it? Given that we are all part
of the same reality and one’s conduct can influence those of another through
direct contact, sensation, observation, or even story-telling, I argue that
yes, an individual’s actions are significant to all others exposed to them.
Back
to the unaware subject – is it okay to laugh at them if they don’t know or
assume you are? My first reaction
is yes. If they are neutral in the
situation, they contribute zero (0) points to the energy of the universe. Whereas the spectator, who finds joy
through the form of laughter, contributes at least one (1) point to the
positive energy of the universe. If the subject is unaffected and the spectator amused, would that not
seem an appropriate opportunity to laugh? Embrace the situation for what it is, a simple folly by one is a
significant positive event in the reality of another. No harm, no foul, right?
The
only case in which a situation incites negativity is if the subject of folly
becomes embarrassed, guilty, ashamed, angry, sad, or distressed in any way
because of said folly. This could
occur regardless of whether the subject is aware or unaware they are being
laughed at. In the case of the
unaware subject, if they become distressed, they are likely feeling one single
emotion (i.e. embarrassment, anger, sadness) due to their personal folly. This would naturally contribute one (1)
point of negative energy to the universe. The spectator, however, still retains the amusement and thus the one (1)
point of positivism. Technically,
this becomes a neutral situation (1-1=0), leaving the spectator with their
personal moral compass to determine whether it is appropriate to laugh. One could also argue that a distressed
subject could inspire sympathy on part of the spectator. If sympathy contributes one (1) point
of positive energy, the scales tip towards “appropriate.” Sympathetic laughter is two (2)
points. On the same token, if the
spectator is just plain mean and finds further joy in the distress of the
subject, then that surely contributes at least one (1) point to the negative
energy of the universe. Laughing
at another’s folly is not the same as laughing at another’s misfortune or
torment. For the purpose of this
exercise, let us maintain my personal blind faith in humanity and categorize
this situation as “unlikely.” So
as it stands, if the subject of folly is oblivious to the fact they are being
laughed at, the situation is either neutral or a positive contributor to the
energy of the universe, thus making laughter appropriate.
Then
comes the subject who is privy to being the subject. It is much easier to deem laughter in this situation as
proper or improper – propriety relies solely on the attitude of the
subject. If, after the folly
occurs, the subject becomes distressed, one (1) automatic negative energy point
is awarded. Upon realizing that
they are the topic of another person’s laughter, further distress will likely
ensue, increasing the possible amount of negative points generated by the
situation. Example: folly occurs,
subject becomes sad (-1), subject sees they are being laughed at and becomes
angry and embarrassed (-1-1-1 = -3), the spectator is amused (-3+1 = -2),
perhaps the subject sympathizes with the subject (-2+1 = -1) or finds joy from
misfortune (-2-1 = -3).
Regardless, the best possible scenario would be a neutral situation (1-1
= 0). In which case, one must side
with the distressed subject as it was their personal folly that instigated the
situation in the first place; their allocation of universal energy points holds
sway over those of the uninvolved bystanders.
Finally,
we have the best situation of them all: the celebration of folly. When the subject, the only possible
contributor of negative energy (given the assumption that humanity, in general, is not mean), receives joy from his or her own folly, the possible positivism
is limitless. When the subject is
amused by their own folly, two (2) positive energy points are awarded; one for
inciting laughter, another for the humility required to laugh at oneself. Add in the one (1) point for spectator
laughter and we are already at three (3) points of positive energy. Then things get interesting. Since the subject is aware the
spectator is laughing at them, and they are laughing at themselves, the two are
laughing at the situation together, automatically squaring (32 = 9)
the points of positivism, because we all know laughing with someone is
exponentially better than laughing alone. Add another spectator (“onlooker”) and this one (1) point of amusement
is added to the total of the original situation (3+1 = 4). Since they are likely laughing
together, this total is squared (42 = 16). Do we see a trend here? How far can this actually go? Imagine the subject makes an effort to exhibit their folly. This would require laugher (+1),
humility (+1), and now pride (+1) when considering their action, bringing the
most fundamental point total of that action to three (3) in favor of
positivism. Add a single
spectator, including their one (1) point of laughter, and that total is
squared. The more spectators and
onlookers that contribute positive energy to the situation, the higher the
point total will be.
Theoretically, one single act of folly, when embraced by the subject and
present to others could create thousands of positive energy points for the universe. This is why we should all celebrate folly. This is also why America’s Funniest
Home Videos (AFV) is the most
positive show on television. Individuals embracing personal folly and making it available to
thousands of others to laugh at their expense is the greatest celebration of
folly in the modern world. To
calculate the number of positive energy points fashioned during any given
episode of AFV is a daunting task, I will not attempt to address it right now.
Moral of the story: Laugh. Laugh by yourself, at yourself; laugh with others, at
others. Every time you do, that is
one (1) point in favor of positivism and, as we just learned, it is easier to
multiply that positivism than cancel it with negativity.
TRUE STORY SUPPLEMENT: As I sat in Notre Dame, scribbling down
jargon about the mathematics behind comedy at the expense of others, something
happened. A young boy was merrily
skipping down the aisle of the cathedral, paying little attention to where he
was going. His eyes were at his
feet, over his shoulder, to the ceiling, everywhere but in front of him. I watched as this lad ran (at a brisk
pace) face-first into the rope separating visitors from service attendees. My initial laugh was involuntary – the
action itself was funny. The
boy was completely unfazed and I got a rise (0+1 = 1). My laughter faded as my eyes narrowed
and I peered around Notre Dame, suspicious of who exactly was listening to my
thoughts. Was witnessing this
child’s folly at this exact moment a coincidence? Or was it a sign? If it was a coincidence, the timing could not have been better. If it was a sign… then well played,
God, well played.
