In a grand display of international camaraderie and questionable promises, world leaders gathered in the picturesque land of Azerbaijan for COP29, the latest iteration of the biennial climate summit. Dressed in their finest suits and armed with an arsenal of PowerPoints, they set out to save the planet, or at least the appearances of doing so. As the opening ceremony kicked off under the glimmer of chandeliers and the faint aroma of fresh baklava, attendees were reminded that the planet was in dire straits. But as delegates settled into their plush seats, they couldn't help but wonder if they'd find a sustainable solution before dessert was served. Nothing says "urgent climate action" like a dessert buffet featuring environmentally questionable pastries. Amid the chatter about net-zero emissions and timelines longer than a Netflix series, the United States, embroiled in its own version of political musical chairs, managed to make headlines without even sending its most powerful climate negotiators. "Why engage in meaningful dialogue when we can tweet about it later?" one U.S. official was overheard saying while hashtagging #ClimateCrisis on their phone, presumably more concerned about their social media presence than actual policy outcomes. Meanwhile, fossil fuel lobbyists made their presence felt, strolling through the conference like they owned the place—because, in many ways, they do. Clad in ‘eco-friendly’ logo-emblazoned golf shirts - the kind that somehow scream irony - they felt right at home while taking turns offering free pens and stress balls embossed with catchphrases like "Carbon is my cardio!" Back in the main hall, substantive discussions devolved into impassioned debates over whether beanbag chairs or swivel chairs would make conference meetings more productive. One delegate passionately argued that comfort led to creativity, evoking vague memories of a college dorm debate about whether pizza counted as a vegetable. Unsurprisingly, no one mentioned how a carbon-neutral future could actually be achieved. As the summit progressed, lofty promises were made with all the serious intensity of a school committee discussing next year’s bake sale. Countries pledged to reduce emissions by 2030, 2040, and, for the particularly ambitious, even 2050, all while smiling for the cameras. "We will reduce our carbon footprint significantly!" shouted one leader, presumably while their own country continued to invest in fossil fuel extraction as if it were the latest cryptocurrency. Still, amid the rising skepticism and eye-rolls, the shining highlight of COP29 was Azerbaijan’s commitment to host the event in luxury, prompting some attendees to wonder if the country might be more dedicated to its tourism than tackling climate change. With picturesque backdrops and five-star accommodations, the summit became more about the selfies and hashtags than tangible outcomes. It was the climate conference equivalent of going to a spa and calling it self-care. As the curtains fell on another round of heartfelt discussions and abstract goals, leaders strutted out of the conference hall, high-fiving each other as they promised to meet again in a few years to discuss how well things were going—spoiler alert: they won’t be. “Next year, we should definitely hold it via Zoom,” one delegate chuckled on his way to the airport, “It’s so much more environmentally friendly.” And as the delegates boarded their private jets, oblivious to the irony, one couldn't help but think: maybe, just maybe, the promises made at COP29 were the only thing greener than Azerbaijan’s lush landscape—managing to be simultaneously beautiful and entirely superficial. The world, it seems, will continue to wait while the real work remains indefinitely parked at the gate, alongside all those unfulfilled pledges.