So, a couple of months back, I’m waiting for the subway and there’s a rather cranky young woman yelling into, or more precisely AT her cell phone. Given today’s general lack of public decorum, I’m figuring it’s one of those angry conversations with a not so friendly relative or soon to be ex-formerly significant whatever that’s not supposed to be heard (and yet gets to be heard by all within earshot). Snip, snip and chop, chop- there goes someone’s entire wardrobe in the street and on fire later tonight, blah, blah, blah… whatever. And IN the freakin’ CAR, too? Yeesh. In any event (and as usual), I sidestep away so I can get some peace and quiet and not have to listen to someone sounding as if they’re auditioning for a new Quentin Tarantino film, when I hear the sound of a phone hitting the platform along with a string of expletives. Well, that’s one relationship busted… and a phone to go with it, I think… Wrong again.

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