An Earful

I had this idea a few weeks back to start recording conversations that people have on the train. The idea was that eventually I would transcribe them all for a book. It never ceases to amaze me how much people will express about the most personal aspects of their lives, in earshot of complete strangers. They talk about their affairs with their bosses, their medical issues, they yell at their girlfriends. And then, if you actually acknowledge that you can hear what they are saying (which should be obvious since their no more than twelve inches away and practically screaming into the phone), they look at you like you’re the one being rude?!?! A couple weeks ago there was this woman complaining for a solid twenty minutes on the phone, sitting in the seat right across from me. I was reading my book, but everyone once in a while I would look up and sometimes my eye would catch hers. She had the nerve to start talking about me on the phone, like I broken some kind social law. “This woman across from me keeps giving me dirty looks,” she says. “I guess I’m not supposed to be on the phone or something…I don’t know what HER problem is”. And she’s right. She doesn’t know what my problem is. That’s because I have the decency to write about my problems instead of shouting them out on the train.

I think the reason I hate listening to people on the phone is because it’s like getting to know someone involuntarily. I didn’t agree to strike up a friendship with any of these people, nor did I sit down to watch an episode of Tyra. Yet, there I am, getting force fed the sordid details of their life.

This is a good segue for my next topic. The guy in the cubicle next to me is a part-time clown. I’m not insulting him. He literally dresses up as a clown and makes balloon animals for kids at parties. He’s some kind of computer programmer all day (he sits rights next to me but I’m still not exactly sure what he does). But, his true love is “clowning”. About once a day he’ll get a call from someone and I’ll hear him telling the person his rates, or giving his availability for any given weekend. Maybe this is weird to me because I have childhood memories of John Wayne Gacy being in the news for murdering all those people and burying them under his house. And then later seeing his creepy jailhouse clown art being collected by perverts, New Yorkers and Jonny Depp. I have never understood why people like clowns. I think adults hire clowns for parties because they think that is what children want, but if you asked the kids, they’re probably prefer a bounce house or a pizza party with a Spiderman cake. The one incredible skill that many clowns have is the ability to make things out of balloons. I swear the guy next to me could sculpt the Taj Mahal out of balloons in less than five minutes. He’s a really nice guy and it makes my heart hurt a bit to be writing smack about him but it’s a weird hobby and I’m forced to hear it about it daily.