This local (Madison, Wisconsin) story made national news at the time (July 25, 2011), and again two weeks later, with the arrest of the capital worker, who now faces up to nine months in jail and a $1000 fine. All for pointedly stabbing a protester’s balloon with a knife and engaging in an altercation afterwards. When asked why he popped her balloon during the protester group’s sing-along, he answered, “I just snapped!”
This instant punch line for bloggers, pundits and stand-up comics across the land provides for us an interesting segue and metaphor for something we’ve all experienced. After first hearing that story and getting a laugh out of it, did you stop to think of times when you’ve had a balloon popped? Or times when you couldn’t resist popping someone else’s?
I did. I’ve seen both sides now. Various turns of events, more or less tragic, burst my bubble just last week: a critical email from an unexpected source; a curt rejection letter from an organization I wanted to work for; the political discourse post-debt ceiling crisis; the resulting sharp decline in my stock portfolio; even the hostile events overseas (famines, military crackdowns, terrorist plots) that sap hope for peace—to name a few events, personal and global.
Then again, I am not just the victim when it comes to popping balloons; I am also the perp. Some puffed up or arrogant people, who insist on always being right and argue without checking the facts, will find that I will research and use facts to pop their balloon. Some who believe certain myths—of Science, the Bible or of History—will get their balloons popped in the heat of an argument. Idealists of the romantic or utopian or Pollyannaish kind will also get their balloons popped when braced with a dose of reality.
Unfortunately, I have not developed the Teflon coating or tough skin that deflects the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune aimed at me. That would help if I did. Perhaps then I could say to the whiny phone-caller, “The Complaint Department is closed today.” I do choose different friends from those who always dig at me, and I do hide cherished balloons from those who would pop them because of their political preferences or ideological differences. But I have my own delusions and fetishes that I still cling to—thank you very much.
Fortunately, I have not developed a callous indifference to those who likewise cuddle and float their balloons of whatever kind. Perhaps, I hope, those balloons will just lose air on their own, under the unsustainable weight of evidence to the contrary. To pop their balloon prematurely is to make me the bad guy, and take the focus off the heightened unrealistic expectation, the invariable disappointment, or the ongoing grand illusion. If someone wants to keep a certain volunteer job, or run for a certain office, or date a certain guy, for example, but is ill-suited for that, far be it from me to “point” that out to him or her.
“Sorry to pop your balloon, but….” is not something you will hear me say these days. If it’s a “trial balloon,” and you invite feedback that may pop it, that’s one thing. But if I pop your cherished balloon, inadvertently, I will apologize. While I love to pop used or fading balloons, I will invariably jump whenever a new one is popped near me. If you know this weakness and predilection of mine, and pop balloons near me anyway, I will wince or flinch every time.
So, when it comes to balloon popping, are you more often the victim or the perpetrator? Why?