The world is on the phone…talking loudly, texting crossing the street. The lack of self-awareness in this century will become legendary.
After almost getting hit by a UPS truck, I no longer text or email while walking. If it’s important, I stop and do it, and not in the middle of the pavement either. I take myself out of harms way, and everyone else’s, so not to impede traffic.
Of course, I’m alone in this. At least once a day I see someone in the middle of the street making love to their phone oblivious to cars honking, cabbies screaming, “Get outta the way…camahnnnn.”
I’m surprised there aren’t more casualties.
The worst is being someplace intimate while someone’s yakking in your vicinity.
This happened recently at my nail salon. I strategically make appointments to try gleaning a little peace, but it never quite works out that way.
It’s 9:30 a.m. and I’m the first customer to get a badly needed pedicure. I hate them so I wait until my feet look like they’ve been walking over hot coals before having one.
Sitting there waiting for polish to dry can age a girl.
I’m not soaking five minutes before a middle-aged woman comes in with her hair in curlers. She came in like the wind speaking in stereo, tossing her things around as though it were her living room. They put her right next to me so now I’m privy to not only her charming voice but her onion bagel wafting in my direction.
My Catholicism, though lapsed, makes a cameo when I look toward the heavens and say, “God what did I do exactly to deserve this?” Of course he doesn’t answer.
Now if this happened in a restaurant without further ado I’d move my seat. But when you’re immersed in bubbly water while a woman named Ki Ki is scrubbing one of your heels, it’s not so easy. Angelina Hollywood, that dear girl, went back to Mexico so we now have Ki Ki.
On cue, onion gets on her phone. She’s one of those women who can’t amuse herself without outside stimulation and we’re not talking books either. It’s more, “Helen, it’s me Alma…how ya doin? I’m gettin my feet done…what’s up with you?”
Omigod. The pain I was in. What to do…what to do.
Now interestingly enough, there’s a huge sign that says, Limited Cellphone Use Only. In other words, you don’t aimlessly chat.
I turn to her with a pleading smile and say, “Excuse me, do you think you could not talk on your phone while you’re here. ”
Well, she sure didn’t like that idea. “I need to make this call,” she said nastily.
Yes, my mother made a quick appearance. Never fails. “DO YOU SEE THAT SIGN? WOULD YOU CARE TO READ IT TO ME? YOU DO KNOW HOW TO READ DON’T YOU?”
I know, that was hitting below her cream cheese, but I was mad. Is it really asking too much to have your space respected?
However, she did get off. I think I scared her going from a tired Audrey Hepburn to Jack Nicholson in The Shining without passing go.
Self-awareness…pretty soon it will be a thing of the past like dinosaurs and phone booths….