There are two types of people who visit a place like Costa Rica: those who come to marvel at its beauty and those who can’t stop marveling at themselves.
This guy on my sightseeing tour was firmly in the latter camp, turning every breathtaking view into a stage for his endless parade of selfies.
The Selfie Scourge
The first light of dawn stretched across the canyon, painting the cliffs in soft hues of gold and amber.
It was so beautiful!
It was the kind of moment that begged for silence, a quiet reverence for something far older and grander than any of us.
And then that guy ruined it.
He arrived with the subtlety of a brass band, his voice ricocheting off the cliffs as he loudly announced his presence to no one in particular.
“Alright, people, let’s make some magic!” he shouted, striding past the polite hikers and photographers who had claimed spots along the ledge.
Unfortunately, I was one of those photographers.
As he marched into my frame, I glanced at my tripod and back to him, hoping he’d notice.
He didn’t.
Instead, he struck a dramatic pose, phone held high, and began snapping selfies like his life depended on it.
I cleared my throat. “Excuse me, you’re blocking the shot.”
“Oh, yeah?” he said, glancing over his shoulder with a grin. “Just a sec.”
It wasn’t “just a sec.”
The narcissist with a phone was relentless.
He moved from angle to angle, talking loudly into his phone, and even shooed a couple away from a particularly scenic spot so he could have it to himself.
Further down the trail, I caught sight of another woman watching him with a mix of irritation and disbelief. She sidled over to where I was standing, shaking her head.
“Is he serious?” she asked, her voice low.
“Seems like it,” I replied, trying not to laugh. “I think he’s made this his personal runway.”
She smirked. “I’m Nancy, by the way. Guess we’re in this together.”
By the time the guy moved on, he’d monopolized nearly every scenic angle we’d passed.
Nancy and I began walking in silent solidarity, trailing behind the overzealous camera hog and rolling our eyes as he turned every overlook into a social media spectacle.
Monkey Business
The sun was high when we reached the crown jewel of Canyon Vista: a sheer cliffside overlooking the canyon below, a dramatic expanse of jagged rocks and deep shadows that stretched endlessly into the horizon.
It was the kind of view that makes you forget your troubles, your to-do lists, and, for a moment, even yourself.
The selfie enthusiast, of course, had other ideas.
“This is it! Money shot!” he shouted, sprinting to the edge. He pulled out a small tripod and perched his phone precariously on a flat rock, angling it just so.
Nancy and I exchanged weary glances as we hung back, unwilling to compete for space with the self-proclaimed king of the canyon.
As the guy prepared for his next round of selfies, a group of monkeys appeared from the nearby trees. They were small, wiry creatures with keen eyes and quick movements, darting between the tourists with surprising boldness.
Nancy nudged me. “I think our furry friends have more manners than this guy.”
I stifled a laugh. The monkeys were the perfect contrast to his overblown theatrics—playful, unpredictable, and far more captivating.
But the guy, true to form, saw them as props for his next photo.
“Alright, little dudes,” he said, crouching down to their level. “Let’s get you in the shot.”
He waved his arms theatrically, trying to coax the monkeys closer, but they remained just out of reach, watching him with bemused curiosity.
One of them, however, seemed particularly interested in his phone, edging closer to where it rested on the rock.
“Careful,” Nancy warned. “They’re quick.”
He waved her off. “Relax. I’ve got this.”
The monkey crept closer, its tiny fingers twitching, but the man was too absorbed in his own reflection to notice.
Nancy leaned in, whispering, “This is going to be interesting.”
And it was. But not for the reasons Mr. Selfie King expected.
Karma Unleashed
It all happened in an instant.
The guy, perched dramatically on the cliffside, was in the middle of what could only be described as a full-blown selfie shoot.
His expensive phone rested on a flimsy tripod, teetering dangerously close to the edge.
The mischievous monkey, eyes gleaming with curiosity and mischief, saw its chance.
With a swift, practiced motion, the monkey darted forward, snatching the phone with both hands.
“HEY!” Mr. Selfie King screamed, leaping toward the rock as the monkey scrambled up a nearby tree, phone in tow.
The crowd of tourists, previously trying to stay polite in the face of this man’s antics, erupted into cheers and laughter. Cameras were suddenly turned on him, capturing every second of his humiliation as he stumbled after the monkey, arms flailing.
“Get back here!” he bellowed, his voice echoing through the canyon.
The monkey, however, was having none of it.
It climbed higher, pausing only to inspect its prize. The phone gleamed in its small hands, and with a few curious taps, the screen lit up.
The narcissist’s beloved selfie mode came to life, most probably capturing a chaotic series of blurry monkey close-ups.
The crowd roared with delight. Nancy was doubled over, laughing so hard she had to clutch a nearby railing for support.
“Do you think he’ll post those?” she managed to gasp between fits of laughter.
“Only if the monkey gives him permission,” I replied, snapping a picture of the scene for posterity.
The guy, now red-faced and panting, tried throwing pebbles at the tree in a last-ditch effort to retrieve his phone.
The monkey, clearly enjoying the attention, waved the device mockingly before darting to a higher branch.
Then came the pièce de résistance.
With a final triumphant chirp, the monkey tossed the phone into the air. It tumbled end over end, catching the sunlight for a split second, before landing with a wet, satisfying plop into a mud puddle at the base of the tree.
The crowd exploded into applause.
“NO!” the man howled, scrambling toward the puddle. He dropped to his knees, pulling his phone from the muck, its screen smeared and lifeless.
As he cradled the ruined device, a nearby tourist muttered, “Guess karma’s got a sense of humor.”
Nancy leaned over and whispered, “Best wildlife sighting of the day.”
The Crowd’s Justice
Mr. Selfie King sat in the mud, his once-pristine designer clothes now streaked with brown and his face twisted in a mix of anger and humiliation.
The crowd didn’t bother hiding their amusement; phones were still aimed at him, documenting his downfall with the same enthusiasm he had shown for his selfies.
“You think this is funny?” he snapped, glaring at the onlookers.
Nancy raised her hand, completely deadpan. “Oh, absolutely.”
The tension broke with another wave of laughter, even louder this time.
He glowered, trying to scrape the mud off his phone, but it was hopeless.
“Maybe if you ask the monkey nicely, he’ll take a picture of you,” someone called from the back of the crowd.
Even he couldn’t argue with the absurdity of the moment. He muttered something under his breath and stomped off, leaving a trail of muddy footprints behind him.
As the crowd began to disperse, I noticed the monkey still perched in the tree, watching the commotion with what I could only describe as a smug grin.
“I hope someone frames that monkey’s selfies,” Nancy said, still chuckling.
I raised my camera and snapped one final shot: the monkey in its tree, the mud puddle below, and Mr. Selfie King’s retreating figure in the background.
It was the perfect ending to a day that had started so frustratingly.
“Nature has a way of working things out,” I said, packing up my gear.
Nancy nodded. “Sometimes, it even brings popcorn.”
As we walked away from the scene, the sun began to dip low in the sky, painting the canyon in fiery shades of orange and red.
For the first time that day, the view felt untouched, unspoiled by the noise of vanity.
And somewhere in the trees, a little monkey probably felt the same. 😀