And it’s heartwarming to have friends and acquaintances who are sufficiently thoughtful and appropriately ambivalent about wayfaring that they’ll circle around traffic circles and campus fountains to give you time to catch up.
So, who cares if the rent-a-cops in their military-grade bullet-proof vests care a lot more about where you’re permitted to hang out than you do?
After all, there’s a great big world out there, complete with its very own freshwater lake perfect for barely-waning supermoons to rise out of, so even though that concrete platform five stories up would be perfect for catching the last few rays of sunlight while quaffing a cold one, the prudent thing to do is just—as is so often the case—let the baby have their bottle and head elsewhere.
No point in arguing with those who won’t listen to argument, as Monty Python reminds us.
If they’re going to cite unjustified rules to justify their position, then they’re no longer doing philosophy, they’re just doing their job, whereas you get to ride away and still enjoy the downhill corkscrew, which was half of the point, after all.
I can see how it must seem that having this much fun and beauty and natural wonder ought to be against some rules, somewhere.
If I were on the outside looking in—especially if I had to gear up for my hourly (no doubt, non-union) work in polyester olive drab and combat boots—I’d probably want to put the kibosh on such shenanigans, as well.
But that’s why you’ve got to get out on two wheels instead of the company-issued toy jeep; when your head’s in the clouds instead of your ass, you see whole lots more.
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