It was lunchtime by the Miller Hill Mall, and my husband and I divided the kids between us. He took the older two to Old Country Buffet, where they enjoy making multiple trips to the dessert bar. I took the 3-year-old to Starbuck’s in Barnes & Noble, where we could eat quickly and then visit the toy train in the children’s book section.
  While I ate my sandwich, my thoughts were unable to be louder than the conversation occurring behind me. From what I could gather, a man in his 20s and his father had been eating lunch. Then an elderly gentleman who knew them, but just a little, stopped by to give his medical report. And there was more.
  “I have bad news,” the old man said. “So-and-so Johnson is dying.”
  “Who?” the father asked.
  “I don’t know who that is,” the 20-something said to hid dad.
  There were several minutes of confusion, then the old man: “Oh, did I say ‘Johnson’? I meant ‘Olson.’”
  “Oh,” the father said. He kind of knew who that was.
  Then the elderly man went into a long description of Mr. Olson’s health problems. “They had to remove half his colon,” he said.
  The loud story had been going on for some time, but it was at this point that I thought it appropriate to turn my head around with a “hey, I’m trying to eat” look. No one noticed. Ah well.
  Eventually, the father said he had to leave. “I was just trying to finish my book here when you stopped by,” he said. Ouch.
  That evening, I mentioned this conversation to my husband. Coincidentally, he had a similar story to tell.
  “There was a man in the booth next to us,” he said. “I couldn’t see him, but he was talking about the results of the Iowa caucus. In the span of about 5 minutes, he used the term ‘Fat Cats’ at least nine times. ‘Now the Fat Cats will see who has the power’ ... ‘Now the Fat Cats will know they can’t get away with this.’”
  The man’s passionate political diatribe grew louder, and then he started peppering his opinions with “hell.” Not knowing where this was headed, my husband took the opportunity to move with the kids to eat dessert at a different table.
  It was then that he got a look at the guy, a man in a trucker cap who weighed about 400 pounds. It seemed funnier then, him calling someone a Fat Cat.
  It’s good to have common interest with your spouse. Apparently, one thing my husband and I have in common is being annoyed by people and their loud stories.