Adventures in Eavesdropping

Last night over a lovely dinner I was surrounded by two tables. Table #1? Spoiled college co-eds talking about the apartments their dads had bought for them, their amenities, the first time buyer tax break "daddy" was getting for listing daughter as the owner. I almost puked in my pork-heavy kimchi.

Table 2? An excessively emotional set of paramours practically breaking up. "What if I said I wanted the last dumpling?" she inquired. "Would you say, 'I want you to have it, too,' or would you stand up for yourself and say 'Well I'd like to eat it.'" That's a real excerpt. Puking pork turned into wincing and cringing, mixing with loud sighing to combat the collegiate cocktail hour at decibel 10. "So I had sex with Adam's friend and he was like 'did you do that just because you can,' and I said YEAH, DUH." Another real excerpt.

I wish I hadn't overheard them. But I couldn't stop listening. What brand of elyptical DOES her TriBeCa loft have? And, my god, how DID he feel when she discussed their relationship in the past tense? But I wanted to stop. I wanted nothing more than to enjoy a delicious date with my honey, with whom I happily rent a modest appartment. In the present tense. Anyone know how to turn off the eavesdropping ears?

This morning, it got worse. Equipped with an iPhone now, I felt I'd be able to mind my Ps and Qs through the commute. No such luck. A young woman with a new baby sat next to me. Her husband hovered above, talking about all the great opportunities for Navy divers. "See, if there's a plane crash, I'd be the first team deployed. We save people. We look for down pilots immediately, when there's a chance to save them." Minutes later the conversation turned into how he felt about the job interview he just had. At a restaurant. Unsure of where she'd be living with her baby, or what kind of income her husband would be able to produce, the woman looked terrified. And I felt for her. Not the feeling you get when overhearing gossip. But the feeling of knowing someone, and knowing their struggles. Again, I wished I hadn't heard.

After exiting the train and abandoning the headphones (for walking safety, of course) I passed by a couple of down-and-out looking fellows having the following exchange:
guy 1: Well you're not behind on payments or anything are you?
guy 2, as if to say of course, how could you ask that?: Yeah man. I owe for February and now March, too!

When times get hard, people talk. Maybe they need to use a friend as a sounding board, or they know misery loves company. The problem is listening in to strangers' convos now isn't an appealing glimpse into a different life, but a collection of gut-wrenching, sad-sack tales. Too real, too widespread and too close to home to ignore. I'm starting to think this eavesdropping issue is no longer nosiness, but coming face to face with where we all stand. Which, apparently, is a very precarious place.