Adventures in Eavesdropping, Part Two:

Overheard in a Target in Phoenix, AZ

A young girl, about 6 or so, is hanging on to the side of a cart pushed by her grandmother, who possesses an untraceable foreign accent. When grandma says "no" her mouth thrusts out into a large "O" shape as she nods her head negatively, her eyes mock-sternly fixed on the child. Through her serious mask a smile can clearly be seen.

Girl: Nana, can I have a Barbie?

Grandmother: (to the tune of the "Nanana" section of "Land of 1000 Dances") No, nonono-no, nonono-no nono-no nono-no. Nono-no-no!

Girl: Um, can I have Barbie's horsey?

Grandmother: (to the tune of the "Nanana" section of "Land of 1000 Dances") No, nonono-no, nonono-no nono-no nono-no. Nono-no-no!

Girl: (looking confused) Why are you doing that?

Grandmother: (to the tune of the "Nanana" section of "Land of 1000 Dances") No, nonono-no, nonono-no nono-no nono-no. Nono-no-no!

Girl: (getting scared) Nana... please stop talking like that!

Grandmother: (to the tune of the "Nanana" section of "Land of 1000 Dances") No, nonono-no, nonono-no nono-no nono-no. Nono-no-no!

Girl: (starting to cry) Nana... stop!

Adventures in Eavesdropping, Part One:

Overheard at the Devil's Tower, WY

A father and his 11-year-old son are circling the giant stone obelisk at roughly the same time as I, lagging slightly behind due to the child's short legs and shorter attention span. I try and pick up traces of their gripping conversation whenever I can get close enough.

Son: Hey dad... whatever happened to the pirates?

Father: I don't know... I think they went into the Bermuda triangle and nobody ever heard from them again.

Son: But dad, have we explored that WHOLE area?

Father: I think we've got it pretty much covered.




Son: ...and I don't know why they don't just USE that technology for something for the government. Why keep it a secret?

Father: Well, you have to understand, nobody knows if aliens are actually real, just yet.

Son: Nuh-uh, dad. In that book they had a picture of the government guys taking them out of their spaceship and putting them in a lab, and that's where they're keeping them all.

Father: Well, you know, I think most of what was in that book was just theories.

Son: Um, Dad? They had PICTURES.



Son (adopting a reflective, philosophical tone): For example, think about this road.

Father: This one we're on right now?

Son: (laser noises and sword motions) Yeah.

Father: Well, what about it?

Son: (more noises) Well... just think of this road that we're on.

Father: ...

Son: ... Just think about it for a minute.

Father: What am I supposed to be thinking?

Son: ...

Father: ...

Son: Hey, look, a squirrel!

My intent in listening is not in mockery of the child's overactive imagination - rather, I see in him a kindred spirit. I miss the naive excitability I had in my youth - although, judging from some of my choices, it's debatable whether I lost it at all. Nor do I laugh at his eagerness to believe fantastic stories about UFOs and Triangles. Believing outlandish stories is, after all, a tradition as old as this great tower itself.