Yesterday, during my morning walk, I encountered a total of eleven people. By â€œencountered,â€ I am referring to people who were on the same side of the street as I was and who were walking in the opposite direction.
Of the eleven people I encountered, NINE of them were talking on call phones while walking. Now, this was a Saturday morning, and from the smatterings of conversation I could hear before, during and after our brief encounter, none of them appeared to be a businessperson discussing business, unless, of course, you define â€œbusinessâ€ as an enterprise involving the wearing a ski mask and a using a gun, or the sale of narcotics, in which case, at least three of them fit the bill.
For a few minutes, I thought that the number of blabbers might only be eight, until I got closer to a woman blabber to see that she was blabbing into one of things thatâ€™s welded to your ear, enabling hands-free blabbing during all of oneâ€™s waking hours.
I found myself wondering what in Christâ€™s name was so important that it required these people to be blabbing while walking down the street on a Saturday morning. Then I figured that it must be that certain people have â€œfree weekend minutes,â€ and maybe thatâ€™s what was going on, the mindset being that, if something is â€œfree,â€ I want mine, and I want a lot of it — sort of like the â€œfree government cheeseâ€ debacle years ago.
Call me insensitive, but I could not help but wonder how many of the cell phone blabber-walkers are currently receiving welfare. I would like to think that none of them are, but Iâ€™ve lived here long enough to have serious doubts about that.
Saturday morning, hands-free, blabber-walking. Itâ€™s a great country.