Honest Conversation Is Overrated
Actual Human Interactions Witnessed Or Overheard
In Twentieth And Twenty-First Century America
In Twentieth And Twenty-First Century America
"Three quarters of the world uses The Internet." Annoying Pizza Guy says, apropos of nothing. "That's like a third, right?"
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I don't know why I feel so much joy in hearing Annoying Pizza Guy address the only other customers in Spanish, referring to them as "amigos". Perhaps because I can understand their conversation, and they are definitely speaking French.
Random Loiterer #1: That woman is wearing no clothes on that cover. That's tacky.
Random Loiterer #2: That's Dejah Thoris. She lives on Mars. It's hot there. As soon as he walked ino the store, one of my least favorite Saturday loiterers began talking. "My nephew showed me the new Star Wars ad. I think they might have the original cast in them but they're keeping a tight lid on it. Did you see Star Wars? I saw all of them. I think the second trilogy was not as good because Lucas didn't have any control over it but now Disney owns it and Walt is really good with control. Maybe a little too good but hey, maybe they'll let Lucas do what he does best. I hope the Millenium Falcon is in it. If it isn't, I think I'd be bitter. I don't like to be bitter. I'm not like R Crumb. Geeze, guy, let it go. You don't have to move out of the country because you've got a chip on your shoulder, you know? Do you read Zippy the Pinhead? Bill Griffith isn't bitter like Crumb. Bitter Crumb. They should make that the name of his movie or maybe an item on The Cheesecake Factory menu. Do you like cheesecake? Because---"
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Overheard In The Store Today:
"You have to really respect Don Lemon, he's a queer Black man who reached the dream of being a huge disappointment to both communities straight white people associate him with. And they LOVE him for it." Random Loiterer: Do you have any of the Incal books?
Me: Right now we just have the gigantic version of Luminous Incal. Hopefully, we'll be getting Final Incal back in soon, but the regular Incal book is currently unavailable from our distributor. RL: That book is huge. Me: Yes. Here's the usual size of the books here. RL: That's still too big. I read on the toilet when I poo. Me: Uhm. Well, those are the sizes they come in. RL: Can I get a smaller size? Me: Do you own a printing press? My Dad: "Ok. Mr. Boston, time to watch Cheers."
Me: "Mr. Boston? I live in Cambridge." My Dad: "But you go to that Cheers bar." Me: "No I don't." My Dad: "You've never been there?" Me: "I don't think so. Maybe? Once?" My Dad: "People from Boston don't go to The Cheers all the time?" Me: "Are you going senile, dad? Do you go to The Jaws Beach all the time?" My Dad: "So that's a no?" Me: "No." But now we're watching Cheers.You know, like people from Boston do. My father likes to impress me by his ability to predict what is going to happen in a TV show that came out fifty years ago, that he has probably seen three or four times a year for the last decade. In this way, he is like his mother who tries to impress me with her predictions about Law & Order reruns.
The only difference is that my grandmother is always wrong and my dad is right about 60% of the time. "You know how all of those people are getting on that giant, fancy boat? I bet it's going to sink." "But, dad, The Titanic is unsinkable!" The following is a series of Facebook Statuses made from a bus, and then a boat, as I made my way from my current home of Cambridge to the place of my ancestral homeland, Martha's Vineyard.
--------------------------------------------- I apologize to the people whose seat is so far back I can taste their shoulderblades because the entire bus must unite to battle the insane woman tunelessly mumbling the lyrics to Christmas Carols loud enough that I can hear her through my headphones. --------------------------------------------- Oh no, insane mumbling woman and person tunelessly relaying Christmas lyrics are two different people AND THEY ARE BECOMING LOUD FRIENDS. --------------------------------------------- "ARE YOU IN A BAND?" "NO, I CAN"T FIND ANYONE AS COMMITTED AS I AM." "I HATE IT WHEN PEOPLE DON'T COMMIT TO THINGS. DO YOU LIKE NEW YORK?" "I HAVE NEVER BEEN TO NEW YORK." "YOU SHOULD GO. THAT'S WHERE ALL THE PEOPLE WITH MUSIC GO." "REALLY?" "YEA. OH MY GOD. YOU'RE SO YOUNG. YOU'RE SO BEAUTIFUL. YOU HAVE SUCH A GREAT VOICE." I wish my seat back went back about three rows. ------------------------------------------------------- The loud peoples' names are Karen and Tray, in case you were wondering. And I know you were. ------------------------------------------------------- "AM I BEING TOO LOUD?" "YOU SHOULDA TOLD ME." "I DON'T CARE. ASSHOLE. SORRY. AM I BEING TOO LOUD? WATCH OUT WILD DRIVER. HAHA. SORRY, AM I BEING TOO LOUD? I'M SORRY. YOU DIDN'T DESERVE THAT. I'M SORRY. SORRY. I DON'T MEAN TO BE SO LOUD. AM I BEING LOUD?" -------------------------------------------------------- Tray, the Christmas Carol warbler has grown completely silent, realizing he has lost the title of Craziest Person On The Bus. -------------------------------------------------------- Tray gets off the bus in Bourne. Karen starts to follow him off before realizing that she has no idea where she is. "HOW LONG UNTIL WE GET TO BOSTON?" I stare blankly at her. "HOW. LONG. UNTIL. BOSTON?" I feign concern. "Pardon?" "BOSTON? CHRIST. WHEN DO WE GET TO BOSTON." We, of course, departed from Boston about an hour previous. "Je suis desole. Je ne parle pas Anglais." "KEY-RIST. WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH YOU? WHEN BOSTON?" "I sorry. I no speak good English." I shrug. "WHEN THE--" Mr. Seatback says, "He doesn't speak English. We're not going to Boston. We're coming FROM Boston. We're going to Woods Hole." "OH RIGHT. I MUST HAVE FALLEN ASLEEP AND THE BUS IS GOING THE OTHER WAY NOW." Karen says. She is wrong. She got on just after me at South Station. Mrs. Seatback asks "Could you lower your voice, please? We're in an enclosed space. There is no need to shout." "SORRY. I MUST HAVE FALLEN ASLEEP. WHEN DO WE GET TO BOSTON?" Mr. Seatback sighs. "In an hour. Go back to sleep." "FUCK YOU, ASSHOLE. SORRY, SORRY. YOU DIDN'T DESERVE THAT." Then Karen goes and sits back down, occasionally muttering to herself for the duration of the trip. In Woods Hole, I make sure to put at least two people between me and Karen, so that when she inevitably stumbles into someone, "I'M SORRY. YOU DIDN'T DESERVE THAT. THE BUS SWERVED. IT SWERVED." It's parked. "I'M SORRY." I'm not the one she's stumbling into. I move fast enough that there's no line to get my tickets to the ferry. Mr. and Mrs. Seatback walk to the also lineless window next to mine. I ask, "Could I have a round trip to The Vineyard please?" Mrs. Seatback's eyes balloon. "Sure thing. That'll be sixteen dollars." The guy behind the window says. "Thank you so much. Have a Happy Holiday." I say. "I think you mean A MERRY CHRISTMAS." Mr. Seatback says. "I don't think I do." I say. "But then again, my English isn't very good." ---------------------------------------------------------------------- For those concerned that I am mocking Karen for being mentally deficient, I should point out that she didn't appear to be mentally disabled, but you could smell the gin on her breath from the Mars Rover. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Karen just ran a full loop around the ferry following some poor steamship authority employee. I'm not quite motivated enough to find out what's going on in this part of her Soap Opera. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- She's back! "IS THE BOAT GOING THAT WAY?" She points to the front of the boat. "Sorry. No English." She sits down a few rows away. "WHERE ARE WE GOING NOW?" ---------------------------------------------------------------------- She also just tried to buy a drink from the very friendly guy behind the counter. She was not served. "WHY CAN'T I HAVE ANOTHER BEER." She, of course, has not had a beer since at least getting on the bus nearly three hours ago. "We're not serving anymore." The guy says. "But I AM about to play a very naughty Christmas Carol." "WHY AREN'T YOU SERVING ANYMORE? I'M SORRY. I DON'T MEAN TO BE NOSEY BUT FUCK I WANT A BEER." ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Mr. Seatback, who I had not seen since getting on the boat just kept her from walking out to the open deck, probably saving her drunk life. I guess he's not all bad. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- "IT IS SO WINDY IN HERE!" Karen says, though we are in an enclosed part of the ferry. I mean, Mr. Seatback has been sighing a lot but I don't think it's enough to be called "windy". ----------------------------------------------------------------------- I got caught breaking character on my way off the boat. She was standing between me and the exit and she said "JUST GO AROUND. GO AROUND ME." And I said. "Thank you." And she looked bewildered but didn't say anything. Also, if you had two and a half minutes in the "How long before Adam's dad says something racist about Ferguson" then congratulations you win the deep foreboding sense of decay in American society. Many many months ago this very eccentric "artist" came in to talk about how we wanted to take some of our posters for this massive collage he was planning on doing.
Initially, someone told him he could have this particular Figment poster. In my conversations with him, I said that we didn't really hold posters for people but when I took it down, I'd put it behind the counter. Between this agreement and when we took down the poster, he talked about how he had three storage units and two basements filled with posters that he didn't think he'd ever get to. Around August, I took the poster down and put it behind the counter, where it sat for a couple of weeks until a very excited kid saw it. His parents asked one of my coworkers for the poster, and my coworker, having no idea who the poster was for gave it to the family. Here's the thing, I DID know who it was for, but if I have the choice between a fifty year old "artist" who has admitted he is a packrat who doesn't use shit, and a little kid who's excited for a poster, I'm going to give it to the kid every time. Apparently, when he came in a few days later, my coworker told him the poster had been given away, and the guy shouted at him, and was a colossal jerk. Today, I saw Packrat Entitlement outside peering at the posters. I nodded at him, and he scowled. After a few minutes, he came in to the store, as if he'd been chewing a lemon for several minutes. "Are you Adam?" "Yes." I said, knowing this was about to go south. "Do you remember me?" "I do." I said. "Did you know that I never got that poster I wanted?" "I had heard." I said. He plucked at his beard. "I was waiting for that for months." "I remember." "Well." He said. "I didn't get it. It went to some fucken kid." I nodded. "I heard. Unfortunately, when you're waiting around for free stuff, sometimes you don't get it." "Well, it was going to be the centerpiece of a collage I was making." "Well, you should get in touch with Marvel about having a poster sent out to you." "Could you---" There are three people in line and several other people in the store. "No. You would have to contact Marvel. We can't get it for you." "But I was waiting for many months..." "Here's the thing. It was a free poster that we had out in the hallway. I know you had expressed interest in it, and we said it would be behind the counter for you. It was for a few days, but then it went to someone else. I can't get you another one." "But I was told..." "It was a free poster. From now on, no matter what anyone here tells you, you need to know that you might not get the free poster. But right now I have people who want to pay me for comics, and I can't keep talking to you about how you think you deserved a poster more than a little kid who really likes Figment. If you want to come back in a few weeks when it's quieter and order some posters through us, we can do that. But free posters are free posters. They belong to the wind and desperate clutches of Scotch tape." And then I turned to the next person in line And he was gone. I'm sure he's going to be back, I, however, hope to be far the fuck away when that happens. |
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