more mass transit eavesdropping

19 December 2009

I usually find that having to hear someone’s private cell phone conversation in public is a minor annoyance. Sometimes a major one. But yesterday morning, not long before I reach my final stop, I hear the most wonderful storytellingest, sing-songiest poetic voice with a Caribbean or West Indian inflection, talking slowly and deliberately, with rising and falling pitch and pauses added for impact – I really want to stay on the bus and listen to the rest of the story.

“So I tried and tried to find it for her,” said the rich womanly voice, “but I searched and searched and searched and searched and it seemed to be nowhere at all – nowhere at all in this big, big city.

“So I tried and tried to ring her to tell her the unfortunate news, and the line was ringing and ringing and ringing and ringing and ringing and there was never, never an answer.

“And I thought that she had given me another number so I searched and I searched and searched and I found it in the bottom of my bag, so I rang that number and it rang and rang and rang and rang and then, she answered!

“Oh and we had the loveliest chat and we discussed another idea.  A great idea.  And so today I am off again in the city, and I’ll search…”

And as I get off the bus I think how nice it must be to turn every conversation into something that sounds like a folktale, to reflect one’s world as though painting a picture every minute.

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4 Responses to “more mass transit eavesdropping”

  1. Hay Says:

    That is quite magical. I hate phones, well, talking on them, so I rarely answer mine.

  2. Jennifer Says:

    I don’t answer mine during the day either Hay. No one I know calls me during the day, so it’s always telephone spam. I’m not a phone talker either.

  3. Selma Says:

    Oh, you are just like me. The stories I have heard on the bus – absolute gems. Your observation about the conversation being like a folk tale is wonderful. How I wish I had heard it!

  4. Jennifer Says:

    I thought the very same when I read about your “feminism is dead” gals Selma. Mass transit is fertile ground for stories isn’t it?


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