Balafon

So I’m on the bus this morning, not riding, because I’ve been under the weather for the past few days, when I hear the following. I figure that calling at volume on your cell phone on a crowded bus puts your conversation in the public domain.

Note that this side of the conversation is female, and in a loud and business-like tone. At first I thought that it was a business call. The tone did not vary at all, even at the end.

Hi, I’m calling for Achmed. Is he there?

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Achmed. Is he there?

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I know he’s there.

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Hi! I bet you didn’t think I’d be calling you!

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So you’re not in Morocco after all . . . you’re in Italy? Who are you staying with?

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I miss you. Do you miss me? … Do you miss me?

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I’m doing ok, thanks for asking. Things are looking up.

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I have a bill here from Revenue Canada for $250.00.

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I guess I can go myself.

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No, I paid him some more money to stay, because I don’t know where to move.

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He didn’t call me, I called him. But I think he has some problems of his own, I think he might have a drug problem or something.

(followed an extended discussion of the merits of the drug problem theory)

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Listen, now that I have you on the phone, I need to ask you something. Do you still love me?

At that point I was eternally grateful that my stop had arrived, as I couldn’t bear to listen any more.