The little condo Husband and I have upstate has a nice swimming pool for the community members to use. We’ve owned our unit since 2003 and this past weekend I went to the pool for the first time. I hope you’re laughing at that because so am I. The second amusing thing is that even with all this chuckling I’m still one visit up on Husband. Over the course of our ten year marriage we’ve also taken about half a dozen cruises and never used those pools either. Probably the biggest passion Husband and I have for the sun and sand is listening to The Beach Boys.
This past weekend was just perfect for swimming, though, so I walked over to our pool in my suit and cover-up and floppy hat. After some time in the water I set myself up on a lounge chair to relax and catch up on those lost seven years of community pool sun. Several people came and went over the next hour, but a couple in their sixties stayed the whole time I was there. They were what you would call aimless yakkers. They were also probably the reason the others left as quickly as they did. People who cannot stand to let a moment pass in silence are a specific form of public torture. They are never low talkers. They just babble like they’re in their living room. This couple had endless, loud conversations that went like this:
HER: I should have worn my purple straw hat.
HIM: You have a purple straw hat?
HER: Don’t you remember when I got it in Aruba?
HIM: What does it look like?
HER: It was right after that dinner we had where you had the oysters that gave you diarrhea.
HIM: What does it look like?
IT LOOKS LIKE SHIT, YOU FOOL! IT’S DIARRHEA!! When they each picked up part of the paper to read I thought, great, now there’ll be some quiet. But no, they started reading aloud to each other. Whole stories too, and not the interesting ones about possible plugs for the Gulf oil spill or why LeBron picked Miami over New York or Chicago. When I heard the words “Lindsay Lohan” I gave up and went home.
It amazes me how the art of imparting information and opinion through conversation can be rendered so banal. This could never happen to Husband and I because our exchanges are always so elevated. Like later that afternoon when Husband dropped me off at Panera Bread to use the free wifi while he hit the bookstore. As I was waiting for him on the bench outside, a man approached with his family and I realized right away it was the actor Giancarlo Esposito. He was even wearing a hat like he wore as the detective in The Usual Suspects. He was talking on his cell, and as he opened the door for his kids to walk in, he glanced over at me sitting on the bench. I gave a little nod and half-smile to acknowledge that I recognized him, and he nodded back. Then he went inside.
Husband pulled up, and as I got in the car I said, “Guess who just walked into our Panera? Giancarlo Esposito.” His eyes got wide and he said, “No kidding? From Homicide: Life on the Street?” He went to get out of the car and then said, “Are you sure?” I said, “Absolutely. He’s with his kids, he’s in a hat like he wore in Suspects, and he looks exactly like himself.” Husband got out of the car and strolled nonchalantly into Panera.
About thirty seconds later he strolled back out and got in the car, smiling. “You were right. It’s absolutely him, and he looks just like himself. Except he’s shorter than I thought he’d be.” “They usually are,” I said. Intellectual conversationalists like us always try to keep it real.
Cousin’s shots from Yellowstone Park rule today’s Fotos
