Each morning I peel the kitty cat off me and tell her to behave as I head out in search of dragons to slay. I ritualistically join fellow caffein-aholics at our neighborhood watering hole with a cheery greeting from Wally, Fred hollers a slightly accusatory "You're late!" capped with a polite nod to the breakfast club. Regulars notwithstanding, one never knows who might slide up alongside ya at the bar. Judging from his innocuous chatter, my neighbor today appeared friendly enough; or so it seemed. For some, the ring of a cell-phone also summons an imaginary cone-of-silence; think reverse-elevator-silence.
Personal laundry is splattered, Gallagher-like, in grievously stark detail to all within earshot before being dispatched over the airwaves. My affable counter-mate is suddenly transformed into something possessed; a seething, ranting, bitter ex-something forecasting grand malevolence for that (once cherished) person on the other end of the phone line. I felt like a reluctant voyeur to this one-sided, insipid tirade.For others, it seems neither alcoholic nor cellular catalyst is required to trigger an unprovoked, uncensored marathon confession. Is it me? Last night, exhausted to the verge of tears, I flew home beside one such individual. His depth of objectification (and some derision tossed in for good measure) of the opposite sex bordered on being unfathomably comical. No amount of hail marys would've helped this poor soul. Have we no inside-voice no more? While typically non-confrontational, I was seriously at risk of running afoul of my own rule. Sadly, I must take this opportunity to apologize for being a wuss and not HTFU in front of the raving lunatic in 17F.
In either case, it felt like I was being flashed and merely stood there, mouth agape, rather dumbfounded....(rant off)
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