As I descended the stairs into the locker room at the gym, I noticed—from across the room—a tall, very muscular and completely naked African-American man. (How could I not?) He was facing the bank of lockers and talking to himself. I thought, too bad—he’s crazy! As I approached my locker, which was near his, I couldn’t help but overhear his rambling. He was talking extremely loud.
“Fuck! I can’t get this thing to work right!” he exclaimed, with a frustrated sigh. I began to worry that, at any moment, his hand would begin frantically jerking, and he would turn and leave a sticky mess on my sneakers. I wondered what unfortunate events in his life had forced him to create such frustrating, albeit imaginary, friends. Next he said, “My reception is really bad in here. I’ll call you later. Bye.” And, with that, he turned and smacked his cell phone onto the bench between us. Baffled by the display, I gawked in disbelief. I suspect he thought I was looking for some action. But honestly, I couldn’t believe that he was standing completely naked in the locker room, chatting on his cell phone.
After I left the gym, I walked to Book Soup in search of a novel. Once I found my book, I went to pay. I took my place in line behind a rumpled looking man at the counter, and noticed he was holding a very passionate conversation with the salesgirl at the register— or so I thought! Then I noticed her mouth wasn’t moving in response. I peeked over his shoulder and, sure enough, he was on the phone! Naturally unaware of my eavesdropping, my intrusive glance went unnoticed. But the salesgirl caught my baffled expression, our eyes met, and she shot me a look that seemed to say, “Can you believe this guy?” I rolled my eyes in return and offered her a smile of solidarity. Without missing a beat in his banter, he paid for his books and, ever so slowly, moved on, never once speaking to the salesgirl. As I plunked my book down on the counter, I become aware of a small stack of printed cards in elegant little boxes. The cards said, “Thank you for not talking.”
I began to laugh at the irony of the situation.
“God, I bet you wanted to give him one of these!” I said, lifting a parchment card from its stylish box, motioning towards the rumpled man still shuffling his way toward the door.
“You have no idea!” she said. “All day people stand here talking on their phones while they pay for their books. Some hardly acknowledge I’m here!”
Instantly I felt sad for her and attempted to lighten the mood. “Yeah, it’s terrible. People seem to have lost all sense of manners. These cards are perfect. Do you sell a lot?” I asked, placing the card back into its container.
“Yep.”
I considered purchasing a package, but couldn’t imagine what sort of turmoil it might cause in the locker room. So I paid for my book and started for home.
On my walk home, I thought about Alexander Graham Bell and I wondered what he would think about the way telephones seem to overshadow standard social graces in today’s world. I thought about the old “reach out and touch someone” commercials and what it meant now—forced participation (having to overhear) with no benefit (intellectual detachment). As I continued my walk home, through the hustle and bustle of West Hollywood, it seemed like everyone was on the phone! So I started counting; the numbers grew so quickly that I lost count. But the experiment gave me a heightened awareness to the telecommunication take-over. There was a serious outbreak of single-cell anemia!
I suppose the pod-like trance—a symptom of single-cell anemia—might have escaped me had I also been on my phone! But since I value my privacy—especially in public forums like the gym or shopping or walking on the street. With my heightened awareness I figured—when in roam! And this is what I discovered:
I learned your phone wouldn’t work in certain stores, but, if you stood at the entrance, you could talk uninterrupted for as long as you needed while patrons navigated around you. I learned you could have a horrible fight, complain about your sex life and make appointments, all while holding up the line at the grocery store. I learned that you could tell a lot about a person by their ring tone, even before they opened their mouths—except in a dark movie theater where I could only hear them. I learned that if a car pulls out in front of you, or swerves into your lane, chances are the driver has a cell phone pressed against their head. During one “close call,” I learned you could put on make-up in the rearview mirror while holding a cup of coffee and (unsuccessfully) navigate a car full of kids while talking. I learned—whether or not I was interested— that endless amounts of personal, and mostly trivial, tidbits presented themselves at infinite public locations. And, I learned that a lot could be revealed about a person’s attitude, situation, goals, needs and insecurities. How? Because, while I eavesdropped on dozens of conversations, they were mostly discussing something that had passed or something that was coming up—selectively unaware of the present: life going on all around them. And since all of the aforementioned information was shared in public, I figure it’s OK to share some of my favorites:
• “Well, if you really want to eat there ... OK, I’ve gotta go … I’m right around the corner, I’ll see you in a minute!”
• “I should go shopping in my closet more often, I had three different colors of the same sweater!”
• “Nobody likes an old bottom.”
• “I’ll just pretend I’m working; it’s easier that way!”
• ”But if he moves in, I’ll lose all my extra closet space!”
• ”What? I can’t hear you, it’s too noisy on this street!”
• “It was really neat, he was like suspended from this really big cobweb and his entire body was like covered in rubber ...” (Good taste prevents me from sharing the rest.)
• “Hold on a sec, some freak is eavesdropping!”
Eventually I got bored with the trivial tone of things, but I was left with this mixed, albeit odd, feeling of solidarity and solitary. So I had to stop and call myself on it. With the great big community connection, have we forgotten the small stuff? We can connect virtually everywhere, at any time, in almost everyplace, but while we’re busy staying connected, have we put what’s in front of us on hold?
A famous New York playwright once sang,
“Best to take the moment present….as a present for the moment!” So to protect yourself from this crippling disease, hang up and talk to the person next to you, or waiting on you or even cruising you! Otherwise you’re just another public phony with a wrong number!
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