I have figured out why I dislike hearing people talk on their cell phones in public, and why I, too, hate doing so.
If you have a vital conversation you find a place that is quiet, isolated from noise so that you don't miss any of the info that's going on.
A couple weeks ago on the way home from Spokane, sitting at the gate in airplane-waiting position, a gal sat behind me jabbering at top volume. She also had a nervous tic that made her look like a yawning dog, and was ill enough to be snorking back snot like it was cut on a mirror at Studio 54. She was telling somebody on the other end "At the airport... gate C... ten minutes... about 15... we leave in an hour... I think it's a double prop plane." Uh, hey... maybe giving coordinates of the plane and a passenger list would suit her better. And holy moly, what a dynamic personality! Mark my words, pretty soon, for the sake of security, the Transportation Safety Administration is going to outlaw the use of cell phones once you get past security, because I'll have been shoving phones ass-bound.
But every other cellphone conversation that I am thrown under is usually just an exercise in banality. Whenever possible, I'm going to follow people on cell phones in public, pull out a small notepad, and write down everything they say.
What? Invasion of privacy? Nope, sorry, it's a public place, ladies bathroom or not.
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Take Me Home
My Blog About My Dad
Geoff Lott: Comedian, Writer, Philosoteur. I am here to amuse you, not entertain you. If not now, later. If not you, somebody else. If you can't laugh at yourself, that's just fine, too. I will do it for you.
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