There Is a Time and a Place for That

I was in Starbucks the other day and had the wonderful pleasure of listening to a couple argue. For about 45 minutes. I noticed them when I was ordering my drink because she was repeatedly telling her boyfriend (I think) that what he was holding was not an iPad. And trust me when I tell you it was NOT an iPad. But she needed to tell him that about 10 times, each time getting a little bit louder. After I sat down, about five feet away from them, they proceeded to argue about where to move. She made it clear that she a) is older, 66 so b) needs health insurance and c) a job. But going back to a) that made it harder for her to get c). She wanted to stay in Western Europe, he wanted to go to Israel or maybe Japan. She quickly vetoed Japan due to living space constraints. She also vetoed Frankfurt because for some reason she was convinced that moving to Frankfurt with him meant she would end up staying home and washing his underwear. The discussion regarding Israel allowed her to mock him for his lack of sincerity in practicing Judaism. Now that's a touchy subject if you ask me. The argument also included a hand being slammed down on the table, her asking him if he "really knows what love means," an insistence on moving her instruments from the US and her finally telling him he made her unhappy and killed her well being. She then took her giant rolling suitcase and wheeled it out the door.

By that time I needed to leave, so I didn't really get to read in peace and quiet. Not that I wasn't slightly, just a tiny bit, enjoying all that. I mean, I'm not an eavesdropper but sometimes you can't help yourself. Like when two people insist on talking about extremely personal things in public. The whole encounter made me wonder why there are some people who can't limit those discussions to private places, or at least avoid having them in small Starbucks where every single patron could overhear them, and potentially make metal notes of the argument to blog about it later (or perhaps email snippets to their husband). Even doing it out on the sidewalk would have been slightly more private because there wouldn't have been a room full of strangers forced to listen in on whether she wanted a small living space (no), to do his laundry (no) or live in Israel with a non-practicing Jew (no). I do wonder if she took her suitcase and rolled out of his life forever, considering he killed her well being and happiness. I suspect, and hope, my future Starbucks visits won't be so colorful.