Wi-Philes

I'm an expert eavesdropper.

Among the many things I consider myself good at, most of them relating to introspection and/or self-deprecation, I believe I am a forerunner in the art of listening to other people's conversations. When you spend as much time on trains and boats as I do, you tend to learn a thing or two about people you'll never give the time of day, let alone talk to. I have conversational preferences, now; that is, there are some types of social exchanges I actually enjoy tuning into. For example, I love listening to people yell at customer service reps over cell phones. There's something about a rough mustached man hurling obscenities into his palm because the shower curtains some Arkansas-based bathroom company sent him were the wrong color. Conversely, I absolutely hate overconfident awkward dudes with every fiber of my being, particularly ones that try to hit on cute, quiet, unsuspecting girls on the ferry. I hate them because they seem to find the one cute girl on the ferry that sits across from me, without fail, each and every time. I have to force my way through whatever book I'm reading while this dude talks about how he and his friend Jim once wrestled on the Brooklyn Bridge and the cops jailed both of them for three days.

However, I actively absorb these exchanges like a sponge, and as a result I am dirty and covered in bread crumbs and odd black streaks. I use these streaks for when I am forced into conversations with complete strangers, if only not to make the air of any situation less awkward (like standing next to a guy in the urinal, even though he is the only one in the bathroom and there are plenty of other available, less-occupied urinals).

I also use this knowledge to feel out how to not pick up chicks! I can say from experience that learning how to not frighten the opposite sex is only slightly useful when looking to hit on them with any success. That is to say, I have never randomly approached a woman and walked away with her number, or a wink, or a "good-bye", or even a smile and nod. But I've never gotten a scowl, and I guess that's saying something!

Take, for instance, my latest encounter with a savvy female New Yorker-type. I spotted a quaint-looking young girl on the train the other day. She had thick, librarian, black-rimmed glasses, long blonde hair tied back in a pony-tail, and business-suit attire, although she was clearly just a student considering her rather bulgy school bag. This look is considered largely to be unapproachable or undesirable no matter how attractive the girl may be, because many men are afraid that they might end up with a woman who is smarter than they are. I am not threatened by this, but this is mostly because I am so stupid I have no choice. In fact, I'd go so far as to say this business-type demeanor is nothing short of breathtaking.

The girl, who we will call "train girl", was seated and looking down at her hand. Upon further investigation, she appeared to be looking at some pages filled with words, or something. I slowly walked towards her, as the train was moving at such high speeds that inertia was pushing me backwards and towards the rear exit of the car. When I finally made my way to the far-end of the car, I stood over her, giving the best ape-man impression I could, and tapped my finger down on what she was reading while making short, incomprehensible grunts.

"Hey there," I said with a smile, "I see you're reading the Conker's Bad Fur Day instruction booklet. For the Nintendo 64."
"Huh?" She replied, confusedely. Flipping over her instruction manual, I noticed that it wasn't an instruction manual at all, but some larger strategy guide of some sort entitled "The Perks of Being a Wallflower."
"I've never heard of that game. What system is it for?" I stared deep into her brown eyes.
"It's not a game. It's a novel." She pointed to the cover again. "Stephen Chbosky wrote it."
I gave her the most passionate blank stare I could.
"He's an author. He writes books. This is a book."
"Oh!" I replied with a surprised oh-ness about me. "A book, like that Halo book about that game, uh. I didn't realize there were more. Mind if I sit?"
"Yeah. Yeah I do mind, actually. When have you ever seen anyone reading instruction manuals for leisure, on the train?"

I thought hard and long about that one, actually, I thought about it for approximately twelve or thirteen minutes before realizing that I didn't even read instruction manuals to begin with, and that my assumption was in fact ridiculous. Finally, I shifted my attention back to her, and asked, "Have you ever played Conker's Bad Fur Day? It's actually kind of significant."

"What? No. How is it significant? Significant to whom?" [I've never heard anyone say "whom" in real life besides my English teacher from junior year of high school, and she was a fox, so].
"It's important because it raises a very legitimate question: in what situations can cursing be used tactfully in modern literature?"

She raised her right eyebrow and took my bait, "I... I guess cursing can be tactful when used somewhat tastefully, like when to show extreme forms of emotion, or perhaps in comedy."
But the thing is, I thought, cursing can never be tasteful, and therefore it can never be funny, and that's why Conker's Bad Fur Day is a bad game.

I began to formulate my thoughts for replying with my whole "cursing can never be tasteful" routine when I instead replied with: "Fuck your ugly mom at NASA headquarters! And tell this shitty kid to stop touching his dick." I pointed quickly to the infant kid next to her, who was sleeping on his mother's lap, his mother being a 250-some-odd pound Hispanic woman.

Anyway, long story short, I didn't get her number, and I learned a few new words in Spanish. So if there's one thing to be learned from eavesdropping, it's that there's no right or wrong way to gather information, but there are clearly-defined lines when dispersing. And with that, dear reader, I employ you all to listen in on other people's conversations. You never know when they might not come in handy.