Here we all are… waiting. Doesn’t really matter where as all waiting rooms are the same. Bad coffee, bad lighting, loads of people, weird smells, and the loud person. The loud person can be man or woman. I’ve experienced both. This particular loudy is a woman. A woman who’s knitting and talking simultaneously. Special.

We can all hear her. Clearly. We now know about her expected life span, her kids, her conversation with some percieved uppity person she once encountered. We know it all. Know it all and don’t want to. She keeps talking away and knitting. The people sitting next to her look like deer in the headlights. They are attempting to be polite by nodding, smiling, and adding an appropriately placed chuckle now and then. They are cringing. We all see it. Feel bad for them. Except, of course, the loudy. She sees nothing. Has no awareness of her impact. Has no idea we are all just wishing our names would be called so we could get up and leave this place. Ah.. That’s the dream…

I wonder… Always… Is she, are they, like this everywhere?The answer… Yes. Yes they are. Maybe it’s a nice life. Saying what you want to, wherever you happen to be, so loudly the people everywhere near you, and not so near you, can hear. Oblivious to the fact that people are simply longing for quiet. For peace. People are longing to be anywhere but near you, in the waiting room.