Can you hear me now?
Today's bus ride home was one of those particularly grating ones. I was lucky enough to find myself seated next to and in front of the most annoying breed of bus passenger: The Loud Cell Phone Talker. LCPT has no sense of personal space, audio or otherwise. They share all manner of life details with anyone and everyone lucky enough to be seated in their vicinity.
LCPT#1 was having a conversation that started with using miles to book a flight ("I'm totally not willing to pay more than $40 to get to Charlotte"), and went on to discuss her sister's dead iPhone ("Apple can't even help her. It just DIED!") and wound up with her friend, Derrick, who is "on the front lines and sh*t, in Kabul or something." I know that LCPT#1's sister's phone is still under warranty with Best Buy, so there is some hope. I know that American Airlines and its partner carriers are very strict about how they redeem miles. And I know that Derrick is a prolific emailer and whomever LCPT#1 was talking to was going to get a forwarded string of emails detailing how "bad guys are climbing up the walls of the basecamp or where ever he's staying."
LCPT#2 chose her bus commute to call her Grampa and wish him happy birthday. It was unclear if she had to speak so loudly because Grampa was a little hard of hearing, or what, but I got an earful regardless. I learned that "Grampa" lives somewhere that's four hours behind D.C. and it sure is cold up there ("I think it's a lot warmer here than whatcha got up there."). Grampa still hasn't smoked the cigars LCPT#2 sent him. She also shared that Mikey is doing really well in school, majoring in International Business and minoring in Public Policy (he's studying at Georgetown, just in case you were curious). He even made the Dean's List last semester (kudos!).
Now, imagine you were on that bus with me, seated near me and got to hear a mashup of these two super-interesting conversations. It would sound something like this:
I wanted to stand up and scream (and from the waning looks of my fellow passengers, they did too). Although, I am kind of wondering what front lines Derrick is on and where on earth Grampa lives. But alas, my stop arrived, so I guess we'll never know . . .
LCPT#1 was having a conversation that started with using miles to book a flight ("I'm totally not willing to pay more than $40 to get to Charlotte"), and went on to discuss her sister's dead iPhone ("Apple can't even help her. It just DIED!") and wound up with her friend, Derrick, who is "on the front lines and sh*t, in Kabul or something." I know that LCPT#1's sister's phone is still under warranty with Best Buy, so there is some hope. I know that American Airlines and its partner carriers are very strict about how they redeem miles. And I know that Derrick is a prolific emailer and whomever LCPT#1 was talking to was going to get a forwarded string of emails detailing how "bad guys are climbing up the walls of the basecamp or where ever he's staying."
LCPT#2 chose her bus commute to call her Grampa and wish him happy birthday. It was unclear if she had to speak so loudly because Grampa was a little hard of hearing, or what, but I got an earful regardless. I learned that "Grampa" lives somewhere that's four hours behind D.C. and it sure is cold up there ("I think it's a lot warmer here than whatcha got up there."). Grampa still hasn't smoked the cigars LCPT#2 sent him. She also shared that Mikey is doing really well in school, majoring in International Business and minoring in Public Policy (he's studying at Georgetown, just in case you were curious). He even made the Dean's List last semester (kudos!).
Now, imagine you were on that bus with me, seated near me and got to hear a mashup of these two super-interesting conversations. It would sound something like this:
"No way, I'm not flying to . . . Grampa! I mean, who would pay more than $40 for . . . those cigars I got ya? My sister's iPhone had this . . . really cold weather. I know it's a lot warmer at . . . Best Buy, but there's no hope. Mikey's doing well . . . in Kabul or some sh*t. He sent me this email, I'll forward it to . . . the Dean's List. There were, like bad guys . . . at Georgetown. They were climbing up the wall of . . . International Business."
I wanted to stand up and scream (and from the waning looks of my fellow passengers, they did too). Although, I am kind of wondering what front lines Derrick is on and where on earth Grampa lives. But alas, my stop arrived, so I guess we'll never know . . .
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