Okay, so I always chide my wife for one of her favorite pastimes: eavesdropping. She is —even she will admit this —shameless. And it’s not really the eavesdropping that bothers me. It’s the fact that I cease to exist because someone else’s conversation is more interesting that me. And that kind of gets to me. But, I honestly think she can’t help it. It’s just one of those things.
So…
Here I am in a local coffee shop trying to do some work and I realized that I am hearing this woman breaking up with this guy.
I specifically come to this coffee shop because it has the worst music in the world. It is some XM kafehaus mix with acoustic version of already Ambien-esque tunes. I usually have my earbuds. If not, the music is so bad I can usually go momentarily deaf.
But this lady seemed to be making a point of getting overhead, as much of the discussion was a validation of her dating practices, which was fascinating. It was a little like being a male mantis watching another male mantis mating with a cannibalistic female. Fascinating in an horrific parable sort of way.
Anyway, I could not stop listening. And I’m pretty sure it dawned on me what was happening just a few phrases before it dawned on him, the poor slob.
He never asked what was happening. In fact he only went, “Hmm.”
They are still talking. And he’s making the best of it.
It’s like he’s a captive. If he leaves first then he’s somehow an asshole or less of a man or something. So he still sitting there listening. He’s listening because she’s the kind of talker who says “and” before she takes a breath. I hate that. I hate that for him.
Oh, god! She just said the phrase, “You’re a very handsome man for your age. I bet ten years ago you were rocking this place.” I’m assuming she means the city, not the coffee house. Actually I assume she means nothing by that phrase. She’s just caught it this bizarre loop where they are both captives and can’t extricate themselves without some embarrassment.
I would hate her … if it weren’t for the fact that she has reinforced for me an idea I had years ago.
Okay…imagine being at bar (or a coffee house) and overhearing an embarrassingly fascinating breakup that ends with drink to the face or some final hormone popping kiss.
One of the people walks out dramatically. The other sits at the table stunned.
Then the stunned person gets up and begins handing out postcards (or business cards) for a local theatrical company with an advertisement for an upcoming show.
I love this idea!
I’m not sure I’ve got the brass mammaries to do it, but I would love to be a part of it.
Some years back I was in this great show written by Steve Martin called Picasso at the Lapin Agile.
The director had the idea to put it on at a local actor bar hangout. I loved the idea. We didn’t do it.
Right now I am slated to direct a show for Urban Theatre Project of Iowa that takes place in a bar. I think it would be a hoot to actually do it in a live running bar. Without the patrons knowing that it’s a show. That seems a little exciting, a little dangerous, like it adds a little more “live” to live theatre.
I guess eavesdropping isn’t so bad after all.
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