Cranky Mood

Strada at 7:48am on May 24, 2009.
Photo by SB

I hate it when little things make me cranky. I got up at 6am to take my wife to a liberal church in Berkeley. After dropping her off I drove a few blocks further to a little coffee shop that has free wifi, got a coffee and a bran muffin. Once I got situated I checked on others' blogs, read a movie review, edited photos, read, and enjoyed my Sunday morning ritual. The coffee shop is quiet at 7:30. They play classical music and the place is serene. I sit at the back, facing out toward the windows, looking at the backs of all the other quiet, private patrons. In a few hours, this place will fill with college students.

As I sit down, there is a loud southern gentlemen sitting across the aisle from me, talking on his cell phone to his mom about the UC Berkeley graduation of his partner's daughter. The graduate got her PhD in chemistry and her boyfriend is concerned that she drinks too much. She was just having a good time. The southern gents feel his mother should take better care of herself and get help taking care of her husband (not his dad). I also learned about what he ate for dinner last night with the graduate, her friends and family. Who knew could get scallops at a Thai restaurant? I really do not need to know all this stuff.

Why do people think they need to talk on a phone in a restaurant? Actually that is not what bothers me. What I hate is when people unconciously, or conciously, talk louder on their cell phones in a public place. This guy went on talking for 30 minutes.

My frustration continued to grow until he said, "Mother, I am sitting in a classical recital in this beautiful coffee shop. They play the most beautiful music." I looked over at him and almost said "I wish I could hear the music." I bit back my comment, got out my sound deadening headphones and am listening to Pandora.

What bothers me is this guy is educated (he has PhD in Zoology, the last major of the alphabet, as I learned from his conversation). He seems loving and nice. He said many gracious and kind things to his mom and about the people in Berkeley. Why doesn't he realize the noise he is making is rude? I would not be shocked if he would be the first to complain about other "loud" people in a public setting.

I've mentioned before that I am private person. I enjoy solitude, peace, and quiet. In a prior post I also listed many "Manly things" I love, most of which are noisy. I enjoy concerts, airshows, noisy engines (revved up in places where it is appropriate) and other noisy venues. I expect the noise at those times. I don't mind this coffee shop when it is filled with a gaggle of UC students talking about... all the same stuff I talked with my friends during my undergrad years.

If I ever open another art gallery, I am going to post three rules at the entrance.
1. Have an open mind for the art.
2. Don't touch the art, unless it is supposed to be touched.
3. Silence your cell phones and if you must talk on it, leave the gallery to complete the call.

On the great, but short lived, sci-fi show Firefly, the priest on the ship warns the captain about a special hell reserved for,"... child molestors and people who talk at the theaters." I can believe and support that type of hell.

Shepard Book was my favorite character of that show. Here is a little compilation of his scenes, including the "special hell" one.