Can you hear me?
Everyone else does it, so why can't I? Talking on a cell phone in public, that is.

Trying as hard as I might to hold a conversation with Benedict as I boarded a bus, I was greeted not with what I expected, poor reception, but a total inability on my part to focus on the phone conversation I was trying to maintain while at the same time tuning out the peripheral noise from my fellow passengers. It was not meant to be, I guess. The noise level seemed to grow higher and higher as I tried to lean towards the window and away from the sound in an effort to at least hear Benedict and, likewise, have him hear me.

What effectively ended the call was the woman in front of me with her three, yes three, kids, two of which were in a state of almost certain misery while the third, the oldest of the trio, was independent enough to sit across the aisle and cause his own brand of mischief. Their cries drowned out any sound from my phone. Watching the oldest poke the middle one with a pencil in the arm and then proceed to act as if nothing happened, only further enraged me, and I stifled the notion to tell the mother that she should leave her animals at home in cages when she's going out in public.

I told Benedict I'd have to talk to him later, and hung up. Wouldn't you know it, though, as soon as I hung up the bus entered a realm of utter calmness and the sound level tapered off to a minimum level.