It’s tempting to think less of everyone around you when your life is so much better than other people’s, but one must resist that urge. Every human being has hopes, dreams, and inherent worth, no matter what they look like or how high above the crowd they tend to stand. Here’s why I don’t look down on people, even though everyone seems so, so small from on top of this beautiful unicycle.
When I pass people at the breakneck speed of 10mph while riding my tall, tall, unicycle, it’s hard not to consider them pathetic, but I try to remember that you never know what someone is going through. For example, a stranger I pass on the street could be having a really bad day, which is—of course—something I cannot relate to, given that I am atop my unicycle, majestic and free.
Not everyone can have the experience of being functionally airborne, riding man’s greatest invention, so I try to have sympathy for all the passersby, even though their day probably got exponentially better when they saw me. Worth noting, again, that the average quality of my day is sky high, much like myself atop my contraption.
Yes, each person seems like a tiny ant from my unicycle perch and yes, I think this makes them seem funny and cute, but I’m doing my best to combat the human instinct to consider them weak, frail virgins.
I’ll say things like, “Hello, peasants!” and, “Yes, the weather is better up here!” because I think it’s important to engage in conversation with the common folk, to whom I am akin to a god. It shows them I care, that I don’t think I’m better than them, even though I objectively am.
The truth is, arrogance is not a good look on anyone. It’s important for me to remember this, lest I get cocky while balancing my weight perfectly on my steed in a feat that some call “superhuman,” “impressive,” or even “sex on wheels.” Their words! I do not look down on others from this position of immense privilege, even if my head physically must turn downward at a near-90-degree angle just to see them.
Many unicyclists will take breaks from their craft and return to eye level just to remind themselves that they’re people, too. Not me: I cycle all day, all night, until my feet forget what it’s like to touch solid ground. Still, I make a point not to think less of the small idiots around me who don’t live like this. But yeah, if you cut me off with a two-wheeler in the bike lane, I’m going to throw rocks.
