"Cellular Incivilities"

commentary by B. D. POE

 I always drive carefully after having a few drinks.
As a card carrying, flag waving member of DAMM (Drunks Against 
Mad Mothers), I was out bar hoppin' - making my rounds at Happy 
Hour anticipating lots of fun watching the Budweiser clock spin 
around and around.

Traffic was building up and I couldn't wait to park it up against
the next watering hole. Heck, my buzz from the last three rounds 
was demanding refreshment. Two lanes over on my right, a middle 
aged woman in a maroon mini-van, with a " my kid's an honor 
student" bumper sticker, chatted away on a cell phone glued to 
her ear. Suddenly she decides, from two lanes over, that she's 
just got to be in my lane . With no signal and still yammering 
away, she  nearly side swiped me!

Thank Gawd my keen reflexes and alertness allowed me to brake 
allowing the maroon mini-van to swerve in front of me. The woman 
continued into a left hand turn oblivious to me and my obscene 
gestures with the darn cell phone stuck to her ear yapping away! 
"Get me to the bar quick," I thought to myself checking
my watch and hoping not to miss dollar off drinks.

At the bar was the usual crowd of  blue collar workers, office 
people, salesmen and economically disadvantaged alcoholics. I 
sparked up a Doral and ordered a Simpson, a trendy screwdriver 
made with  2 shots of Absolute Citron, cracked ice, O.J., a 
skewered piece of fresh pineapple on one of those little plastic 
swords and rimmed with Kosher salt Margarita style. The Budweiser 
clock spun around and told me I might have time for one more at 
a dollar off providing I drank quickly.

A lady seated next to me complained about my cigarette smoke so 
I relocated next to a sharply dressed business man who was 
chatting away about Tiger Woods and the results of the latest 
golf tournament. Suddenly a phone rang. The sharply dressed man
picked up a cell phone and started conducting some sales deal 
right there in the bar. He  assumed an air of importance and 
issued forth instructions over the phone.

I gave the bar maid an inquisitive look as I motioned for a 
refill. 
"This is his other office, his office away from the office" 
she giggled piercing a pineapple piece. On and on the sharply 
dressed man dictated his directives over the phone. I sucked 
hard on my Simpson. Across the bar, the non-smoking lady reached 
into her bag, produced her cell phone and made a call. I thought 
about how I'd rather talk in private over the phone -not in public 
for everyone to hear. I finished my drink, leaned toward the
sharply dressed man and said " buy low - sell high." I left 
the bar called "Race Time" and thought maybe they should call 
it "Phone Time" instead.

Back behind the wheel, I carefully navigated my way towards the 
grocery store ever watchful for  mini-vans, chatty Kathys and 
blue lights. Of course it was the worst time of the day to go 
food shopping. The store was busy and as usual there were only 
half as many check out girls on duty as necessary .

Rounding the corner of an end cap I suffered a major collision 
with a 300 pound woman in a purple paisley shower curtain looking 
affair, slouched over, butt in the air, leaning on the handle 
pushing the cart with one arm and yammering away on a cell phone 
with the other. I recoiled from the impact and checked for 
whiplash. She gave me a dirty look and continued talking into 
the phone. I'd had enough.

"Get off the damn phone, stand up straight, use both hands and 
watch where your going" I seethed with aggravation.
"Who do you think you are telling me what to do?" she said 
scrunching her face into a snooty cross eyed contortion.
"Lady, you just rammed me with your cart because your mother 
never taught you  good posture or how to act in the store!" 
I raged suggesting that if her cart were anally  inserted
she might stand up straight then.
"Oh don't you threaten me. You're on drugs! I'm calling the 
police." She sneered fumbling around with the phone. I made 
my getaway, without any groceries and left the scene of the 
accident.

Reeling with Hunger pangs and acid indigestion from the Simpsons, 
I made my way to the nearest Diner where I was relegated to my 
choice of coffee, tea, or soda. Sadly, what I really wanted 
wasn't on the menu  and the waitress seemed annoyed at my tiresome 
flirtations. So I opted for the Cheesy Spanish Omelet and Home 
Fries.

Sipping my coffee I scanned an abandoned newspaper." Legislator 
Proposes Ban On Driver's Cell Phones" read the article. Now if 
they could just ban them in all public places I thought. The 
diner was only half full and it was a peaceful change from its 
busy, noisy morning atmosphere. Frankie Valli  and The Four 
Seasons provided relaxing background music as the leggy waitress 
came bouncing back with my dinner. Then across the isle, from a 
booth within earshot, a phone rang! "Not again!" I said as the 
waitress placed the plate in front of me. She gave me an 
inquisitive look. I just shook my head.

bdpoe@aol.com