Pylons
By C at Ashbee
There is something so appealing about that conical orange plastic object. The pylon stands there in silent authority. It has no arrogance and no ability to inflate its ego creating power trip behavior and consequent misfeasance. NO, the pylon stands with purpose and with public safety in mind. It doesn’t have the arrogance of a velvet rope, dividing society into falsely appointed class groups, nor does it flash distracting amber light in our peripheral vision. The colour alone, and sometimes a modest reflective strip of white is enough to command our respect and attention.
Sure, I have knocked them over in the past, and purposely run them over in an automobile, when the time was at its utmost humorous point. It’s a matter of assessing the situation and if there is no immediate danger behind said pylon, it proudly accepts the strike. The pylon serves as a punch line, laughing hysterically in the ditch, just happy to have been a part of a little piece of what makes this world go around. Who of us hasn’t held one in our hands? Wore one like a hat or yelled through it like a megaphone? The pylon just begs to be part of the improvised slapstick events in our lives. Take pride in knowing you have integrated a humble figure into something so invaluable: a joke! The pylon appreciates it.
Besides its regal place in our world, one has to respect the stability of their design, their perfect ascending slope and fluid roundness. The immaculate gloss, crisp rubbery smell and uniformity of a brand new pylon is a thing of absolute beauty. A higher end model with weighted black base deserves a place better than a roadside, in my opinion, but the pylon humbly and proudly stands where it is assigned, regardless of its quality. Ready to elastically bounce back after any encounter, they stand like immortals, never backing down, never showing fear. Inanimate, immaculate.
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