I spend a lot of time on the bus. A LOT. Which means I do a lot of reading and take a lot of head-bobbing naps. I hear funny conversations between loud returned missionaries, see a lot of businessmen who get started on their work before they even ARRIVE at work, and even saw one genius Velcro his iPod touch to the seat in front of him and watch a movie.
But apparently, my listening skills are out of shape. Riding the bus has rendered me nearly incapable of actually listening to a conversation, whether I'm involved in it or not. Most of the time, I'm not. But I think I may have taken my tuning-everyone-out a little too far.
Last Friday, I was going home early and I was excited for the weekend. I had my book out (this week it's Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut) and slowly became aware of the obnoxious teenagers sitting across the aisle.
There were three boys and a girl who had really long blond hair. They were joking with each other, laughing, pointing at things on their iPhones and iPods. I smiled at them, guessed they must be about 17, and went on reading my book.
When we got to the point of the mountain, I realized they were speaking French.