"THE ANNUAL AWARD FOR IDIOTS"

The yearly prize for morons

I thought it was spam when the email came into my inbox.
Subject: Congratulations! Nominated for the 17th Annual Award for Idiots is you.

I blinked twice. next chuckled really loud. Clearly it was bogus; most likely a phishing scam or one of those absurd chain messages from 2009 that somehow made its way back into modern circulation. Then I noticed the sender: National Institute of Accidental Brilliance. And how about the scene? a downtown elegant hotel ballroom. No charge food. bar open. and a an unapologetically yourself dress code.

Of course I simply RSVP'd yes.

Fast forward to the evening of the event; I showed up in a polka-dot shirt, shoes not matching, and a tie from my sock drawer. The ballroom sparkled in irony and chandeliers. Down front, a long red carpet stretched where photographers shouted, "Over here! Give us your most confused face!"

Internally, everything was flaming and golden. Display screens looping video montages of famous gaffs include a man who microwaved a metal fork to see what would happen, a woman who tried to use nail polish as eye shadow, and someone who tried to water their plastic plants. Trophy shaped like huge tangled cables
It was... Ren'aisanc.
The event started with a resonant voice:
The magnificently silly, the wonderfully stupid, the accidentally iconic are celebrated tonight. Recipients: Welcome to the Annual Award for Idiots!
Applause started to boom. Laughter resonated throughout. Dressed like a mad scientist, the host came striding forward flaring a sparkling clipboard.
"And now... the occasion you have all been waiting for. The Grand Idiot of the Year. ”

a temporary stop. Drums roll. Then—
Kelechi Raymond! I stopped halfway sipping apple juice.
The focus was on me. My phone shot around the walls. Looking behind me, I searched Kelechi. Not quite; the camera zoomed in. My face flashed on the jumbo screen—alongside a highlight reel of my "accomplishments":
That time I turned a ceiling fan up side down and switched it on full speed.
Wi-Fi permeated air fresheners for the unforgettable week I recall.
And, needless to say, the notorious episode when I thought paint thinner was mouthwash.
My legs were on automatic pilot. The audience erupted in excited applause as if I were Albert Einstein reborn. Heart heavy, face flushed, I walked on stage trying to determine whether to run or faint.
Grinning, the host gave me the golden question mark.
Laughter burst out again. I honestly laughed as well. Everything was true.
I inhaled deep, walked up to the microphone, and said:
"Thank you. I estimate. Really, I did not intend to be this stupid. It comes automatically. But here is what I have learned: intelligence might construct rockets, but our mistakes produce the most interesting tales. So, for every person who has ever attempted to charge their phone in the freezer... this is for you. Remain inquiring. Remain offbeat! And do anything—never combine vinegar and bleach.
The hall howled. Personality stood in people. Being the biggest clown in the nation earned me a standing ovation.
And you know what else? For once, I wasn't terribly ashamed. I felt seen. celebrated . like I belonged.
Because for one brilliant night, I was king in that space filled with magnificently idiotic people.
[Image source](Image by OpenClipart-Vectors from Pixabay)