Cells

Dear You,

It seems that some people just can't stop talking. I notice, however, that real communication is scarce. This morning I was in line at the grocery store. Ahead of me, fumbling with her purse while Liz waited patiently behind her cash register, a woman was talking on her cell phone. Something to do with legal forms, I gathered -- all such conversations these days are public information, even when I try NOT to listen.

It was an express line. I had only four items -- the woman ahead had hers already bagged, so I couldn't tell if she was there under false pretenses, but I noticed the woman behind was putting a 13th item onto the belt . . . and she, too, was talking on her cell phone.

I looked at Liz, who looked at me and shrugged. The woman continued fumbling, and I thought that whatever she was trying to do would go faster if she could have used both hands. She didn't seem to know (a) that Liz was waiting, and (b) so was I. At last she pulled out a card, swiped it -- while still jabbering away -- and scribbled on the little plastic screen. Still deep in the conversation, she took the bag of groceries and headed to the exit.

"It gives new meaning to 'Shut Up and Drive,' don't you think?" I asked Liz. The woman behind me didn't hear the comment; she was still busy with her conversation. But I had to wonder how much anyone can be in touch with her surroundings if her mind is engaged with the virtual, not real, people in her life.