I am currently sitting in an airport.  For the past 30 minutes I’ve been listening to one side of a conversation about selling advertisement time to radio stations.  At least I think that’s what I’ve been listening to. 

And that’s just one of the problems with cell phones. Never have I seen so many people who seemingly have so much to say.  Do folks really think that anyone gives a rat’s posterior about their side of a telephone conversation? Why have people become so rude as to intrude on our individual peace and solitude by forcing their conversations upon us?  There used to be a time when people sought out telephone booths that offered privacy, but no more.  Go ahead, make that call in the middle of the produce section.  Why not?  Everyone else is.  I ask you, does it not make sense for the individual making the call to remove himself from the public vicinity?  No, instead we the public are forced to move so as not to be subjected to the constant chatter.  And when I say “the public” I essentially mean me because I’m the only one with seemingly nothing to say and no one to say it to.

At O’Hare airport in Chicago recently, I counted no less than eight people within spitting distance yapping on cell phones.  Now eight people may not seem like a lot, but you have to understand, I’m a lousy spitter.

And why is it that whenever someone is on a cell phone they take that particular stance? You know the look, head slightly cocked, a hint of superiority in their posture.  The look that attempts to say:   “I know people and they need to talk to me.”  But is actually saying:  “Notice me!  I’m pretending that I’m a Hollywood player negotiating a million-dollar deal!”

It’s become what I like to refer to as the “loose tooth” syndrome.  It’s aggravating and somewhat painful, but I get a sort of sick, twisted pleasure from the whole ordeal.  I now make it a point to look around airport waiting areas and count the number of people on cell phones.  I love watching people “de-plane” (is there a stupider term than that) to see who’s on their phone before they even make it to the terminal. Some bozo sees to it that I’m never disappointed.  If you are that bozo, I thank you.

This happens on trains as well.  I am a daily rider of BART and I’m constantly amazed at how many people will carry on the most embarrassing conversations in full earshot of a trainload of people.  What ever happened to decorum, and shame?  One young woman was arguing with her mother about the caliber of her (daughter) friends, publicly defending them to mom and those of us unfortunate enough to be in car 242.  The woman behind me was talking to a friend about her daughter’s gynecological exam.  No lie.

While we’re on the subject of BART, I’d like to take a moment to interject two other complaints.  May as well get them all out of the way, right?  Right, OK then. 

Complaint #1: People in the aisle seat, sitting next to me, who refuse to move even though there are a dozen empty seats.  What gives?  Am I THAT appealing?  I didn’t think so.  If there are empty seats, move your carcass elsewhere.  Please. 

Complaint #2: Regular BART riders know that folks queue up before boarding the train.  If you have entered the train only to discover that there are no available seats and you then decide to EXIT the train to await the next one, GO TO THE END OF THE LINE.  If you board the train, you forfeit your spot in line.  Just because you decide to “de-train” doesn’t mean you’re entitled to board first on the next one.  You move, you lose.  Deal with it.

Oops, gotta go.  My cell phone’s ringing.  You see, I know people.  And they need to talk to me.

Bio: Clayton resident, Joe Romano, is a freelance writer for hire. He can be reached at: jromano01@yahoo.com