Fireworks and the main character

This weekend we went to see fireworks. It’s part of the opening of the kermis in Hasselt. A huge display, twenty, thirty minutes long. Really impressive.

Last year we wandered a long time to find a good spot. This year, circumstances kept us in the city center, by the little harbor. There’s a park there, with a stretch of grass and long benches lined across it.

When we arrived, all the benches were packed with hundreds of people. My husband and I decided to take the kids onto the grass. We weren’t the only ones; plenty of families had picked spots in between the benches. There was still plenty of space, everyone had room. The atmosphere was cheerful, people anticipating the show, children buzzing with excitement.

When the fireworks started, we had a perfect view.

Until we didn’t.

A woman in the middle of the field stood up, phone raised high, recording. And suddenly, the kids and I couldn’t see a thing. My first thought was: A video? Really? How many times are you going to watch that? Maybe once, maybe post it on social media for a handful of likes. And then what? It’ll sit forgotten in your phone. All while the actual experience is right in front of you.

When did we stop living in the moment?

Her partner at least noticed. When my husband called out, “Can you sit down?” the man glanced back, saw us, and crouched. He even tugged her arm, trying to get her to realize. But she snapped back, “No, I’m filming my movie.” She didn’t care. Not about us. Not about the dozens of people behind her. She stood there, oblivious, blocking everyone else’s view.

We shifted ourselves to see better. The kids craned their necks. And I sat there stewing, thinking: this is it, isn’t it? The main character syndrome. People so wrapped up in their own perspective they forget the world doesn’t revolve around them.

What struck me most was the lack of consequence. My husband spoke up (twice) and she just ignored it. It didn’t even register. She wasn’t malicious, probably. Just completely absorbed in herself. But that’s almost worse.

Wouldn’t it be nice if there were some kind of social consequence for that? For the people who diminish an experience for everyone else just because their comfort, their angle, their video matters more?

That’s what unsettles me. The way society seems to have shifted toward me first. Toward this strange belief that as long as you’re doing what you want, that’s all that counts. We don’t seem to ask anymore: how can I do this without ruining it for others? Or, is there a middle ground?

And the willingness to even look for that common ground. That’s what feels like it’s disappearing. I hope we can turn back a little. Because the fireworks were beautiful. But I can’t help thinking how much better it could have been if everyone remembered they weren’t the only ones there.

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