It took a decade, but I’ve adjusted to mobile phone culture. I’m less outraged by loud, public/private conversations. But here at the café this morning, there’s a dude talking to his Mom at full volume about being visited by her spirit, how he feels God when he hugs her, and other excruciating details of his spiritual existence. The Tom Waits on the stereo can’t begin to drown him out.
This pulls so many of my triggers at once, I feel paralyzed, unable to type. When his call eventually ends and I can bring myself to stare, I see he has a white cane. And I switch to being annoyed with myself.