Yesterday I wrote about the profileration of websites that post amusing conversations submitted by those who overheard them, the most notable being Overheard in New York.
Today I thought I’d share some of my own overheard conversations, from my visit to a small spa town in the south of Ecuador called Vilcabamba.
Staying in the room next to mine were two 60-something alcoholic Texans named Don and Earl. Don had a long, poorly-tended beard that completely hid his mouth, and Earl was no treat to look at either. I could hear every word they said, because the walls were thin as paper, and because they preferred to shout rather than talk (possibly because they were constantly tanked). They had both recently retired and were considering a move to this little town. Their wisdom was outmatched only by their eloquence…
Don: I wanna plant trees, but not in a straight fuckin’ line.
Earl: No f-words, Don. And I don’t wanna hear any n-words either.
Don: I never say the n-word! I’ve got a granddaughter who’s half n-word!
Earl: Don’t snap your fingers at people, Don. It’s unrespective.
Don: We did good tonight. We met some really… influential friends. Is that how you say it?
Don: Hope is the future.
Don: Earl, do you cross your sevens?
Earl: Only when I write ’em and can’t tell if they’re two’s or sevens.
Don: Well I always do.
Earl: Well it’s a good idea.
Don: I know politics, Earl! I worked at Lee College for 23 years! (as a groundskeeper)
Don: Just look at how much we’ve progressed.
Earl: Or DEgressed.
Don: No, PROgressed. You grew up in the ’50s, right?
Earl: Yeah.
Don: Did you have computers when you went to college?
Earl: No.
Don: Neither did I.
Don: Just plantin’ trees on the side of a mountain– that’s a fantasy come true!
Don (referring to me): That little guy that was sitting across from me tonight– he was hot, and I was good. I didn’t do anything.
Earl: I know it, Don… He was listening to what we were talking about…
And this was when I put my earplugs in. And locked the door.
