Hello. I'm Listening.

Personal space in public places is a shrinking commodity. 

I understand that the very nature of public spaces makes it difficult to build the case for privacy. And sometimes, while our private bubble seems punctured in the great public arena, we find out more about ourselves as we deal with the world around us. These were my thoughts while taking the train into Philly on Friday night.

As I quickly found my seat on the fairly empty car, I revelled in the one hour I would have to read alone.  The revelling ended by the next stop.  Interpreting the unwritten rules of cell phone etiquette on public transportation is tricky, but I daresay they are stretched unevenly.  I shared a three seat bench with another female passenger, who conducted several phone conversations in full voice.  This could have tainted my one hour of "me" time.  Interestingly, it didn't. The woman spoke an Asian language. (I apologize because I really had no idea which language I was hearing and I immediately wondered about how I could have figured out if she was speaking Chinese, Korean, Japanese etc.)  I did learn some things throughout her multiple, and quite animated conversations.  

First, hearing a language that gives me no cues as to what is being discussed provided unquestioned privacy for the speaker. I kept thinking if she spoke Spanish or French I would have been more distracted because I would have been unwittingly listening for familiar words or parts of words.  (I don't speak either language but studied them years ago.) Hearing a decidedly foreign language created something like white noise for me because the words/phrases/sentences could not distract my reading.  Only when the woman said "Trader Joe's" and "Facebook" did my ears prick up.  Second, hearing a foreign language spoken in rapid-fire progression is brain crushingly incredible.  I could not understand an iota of what was being said, yet the speed at which it was being uttered drew me closer.  What an attractive/repulsive force!

The gentleman two rows behind me conducted his phone conversation in English as he gave every possible location marker he could muster, minus the longitude and latitude, for giving the train's movable whereabouts to whomever he called.  I'd like to invoke the royal "we"  when I say, "we were not amused." His seat partner did ask him to tone it down and, thankfully, he did.  

As I sat in a tire repair station awaiting what turned out to be a lousy diagnosis for my car tire(s) on Saturday, a fellow customer, whose burly, verbose comportment dominated the small space, made multiple lengthy phone calls regarding his situation.  It was 9 AM. His car repairs were leaving him stranded there until noon.  I empathized with his bad news as I tried to read.  He then used his cell phone endlessly to conduct what seemed to be a maintenance business that he managed.  Just as my empathy was melting into irritability, the man ended his final phone conversation by sending a quick kiss into the mouthpiece.  Apparently the "boss" he referenced an interminable number of times over many calls was his wife. He then looked across at our wee community of problem automobile owners and sighed, "My wife; she's the greatest."

Yes, to paraphrase Renee Zellwegar, he had me "the greatest."

Here is what I unearthed from these unwelcome cell phone encounters: 
-I can never have too much patience;
-chances are good that I have committed most cell phone transgressions in public;
-burly guys can have soft dispositions;
-being both a participant in and observer of life serves my blogging efforts.

I chuckled as I remembered watching Kelsey Grammer's psychiatrist character, Frasier, in the same titled TV sitcom, greet his radio show listeners with the endearing phrase, "Hello this is Dr. Frasier Crane and I'm listening."  Sometimes I think his character was only hearing instead of listening and wondered how much of each we do in a day.  

One thing is certain: when speaking on our cell phones in public, someone may be listening, but everyone hears.