Overheard Conversations

When I lived in Hawaii, the houses in my neighborhood had no insulation or drywall--they were basically inch-thick log cabins made out of redwood planks. If you were hanging a picture and hammered the nail in too far, it came out on the outside of the house. Add to that no air conditioning or heat (not necessary), so everyone kept their windows wide open 24/7/365. As a result, you could hear quite clearly most of your neighbor's normal conversations taking place in their rooms next to your house.

It was amazing how little time it took to learn to tune out the voices, except if they were calling for help or there was some other emergency, of course. And I'll admit, my dining room was right next to my neighbors' dining room, and every morning when she asked the kids what they wanted for breakfast I'd be tempted to ask for pancakes .

No story ideas from that though--it *would* feel too much like bad eavesdropping .

I like people-watching rather than eavesdropping.
Eavesdropping on purpose reminds me of high school antics.

Granted, there are times when I can't help but overhear someone's cell phone conversation
or when a group of people are on the beach swapping stories. As for a story coming
from those accidently overheard conversations: no. Maybe an idea for a story, but that's about it.

Here is one I wrote into a story. When I finished it, it wasn't close to the conversation that started it, but the original is too good not to share.

Actually it is not so much a conversation as a monolog. The time was a little after ten p.m. on a dark, stormy summer night. The location was the library basement in our small town--the public tornado shelter. There were about thirty people in the shelter. Nobody was saying much. I was holding my very frightened grand daughter in my arms. Even in the basement we could hear the sirens, the thunder, the wind, rain and hail. The lights were going on and off. A woman in her fifties began to talk to a neighbor of hers, maybe just to calm herself, maybe to calm us all. Eventually everyone was listening and commenting.

"I got hurt real bad in a tornado once. Real bad".

I think someone finally said "You did?" or words to that effect. It clearly wasn't a popular topic.

"Yeah. I was fifteen. We were living in Okalahoma, just outside Midwest City. It was about eleven in the morning. Dad was at work. Mom had to run to the store to get something for lunch. Since I was oldest I was in charge. It was a sunny day and my sisters and brothers were scattered all over the neighborhood. Then it clouded up real dark, real fast. I didn't think much about it, past closing the windows."

The neighbor nodded. "I guess you wouldn't."

"Nope I didn't. And then all hell broke loose. The TV went to fuzz so I turned on the radio and tried to get a station but then sirens went off."

"Did they spot one?"

"Yup. The radio said it was coming straight for us. I ran outside and that rain felt just like hail. The wind was blowing me sideways but I got all the kids rounded up, and then the cat and the dogs. I took them all into the house and into the basement."

"Were they scared?"

"Oh yeah. But I wasn't. It was strange but running around in the wind and sirens made me brave. I decided that since I had made it through the storm so far, I might as well stay outside and see a real tornado."

"Good grief."

The lady shrugged. "As kids go, I was stupider than most. I had a dog leash in my hand so I used it to tie myself to this metal railing that was like a porch pillar. I used the other leash to tie my hand to the mail box."

"Oh Jeez."

"Yeah. Really. And then the hail started. It hurt but I couldn't get loose."

"Did you see the tornado?"

"No. I saw my mom. She came tearing up in our car. There was a trash can sticking through the passenger window! She jumped out of the car and ran for the house but then she saw me on the porch. She grabbed my hand and tried to pull me into the house but when she saw that I was tied to the mail box she went nuts. I mean, she was pretty hysteric to start with, but that capped it off. She started smacking me and trying to save me, all at the same time and hollering too. When she finally got me loose she chased me all the way to the basement, smacking me and screaming 'You could have been hurt! When Dad got home he asked me what happened to my face. Mom said "She got hurt in the tornado."

By the time she finished the story everyone was laughing

stormie said:

Granted, there are times when I can't help but overhear someone's cell phone conversation

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... danged contraptions.
Though useful, there are times when I wish
they'd never been invented.
Apologies for the tangent.

I eavesdrop. My grandpa was a bartender. My dad and I used to visit him at work. Dad would have a beer--most likely Pabst. Grandpa would fix me up with a Shirley Temple--complete with cherries and a swizzle stick. I would sit quiet as a mouse and try to figure out what the grownups were talking about. Luckily I did not grow up to be an alcoholic but I did grow up believing that other people's conversations were rich entertainment. I make no apologies--s6

Well this is almost an overheard conversation. I spoke with a woman who owned a large parrot (a macaw named Harold). She earnestly relayed the following:
"One day, I went to go see if Harold needed anything. He had been alone in the back yard for a few hours and I just wanted to check on him. I walked up to him and he turned to look at me and said in a firm voice, "My name is NOT Reginald!" After a pause, he asked indignantly, "And WHERE is Harriet?!"

I didn't know this woman and wondered if..ah...she had perhaps experienced a little bit of the vapors (it was a warm day) or perhaps...an afternoon beverage of surprising potency. To my doubting expression she replied that her bird had indeed said these things just as she described. I asked if he had overheard television programs or perhaps the neighbors speaking to each other. She said she had no neighbors by that name and couldn't recall any television program featuring those lines nor a reason why those lines would have been repeated enough for the parrot to learn them. She was so adamant I am tempted to believe her. The bird was never heard to make those statements again.

[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Back when I worked in the convenience store trade near a dangerous intersection, I saw yet another car accident, this one involving two girls of about 16 who ran their new Firebird into the back of a car that had been waiting to make a left turn. No one was injured and the girls came into the store to use the pay phone.[/FONT]


[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Girl on the phone talked to “daddy,” paused, and said, “we ran into a car.” The sister wailed, “No! Don't tell him that! Now daddy will never buy us anything!”[/FONT]

Summonere:

The problem with that overheard conversation isn't getting a story from it. It's that there's so damn many of 'em already.

It's funny what sticks in our minds.

The other week I was in TK Maxx and a couple were shopping. The woman kept holding clothes up and the guy would say things like: 'yeh it's nice,' 'it's all right that, love' etc. She held something else up and said how she wasn't sure about it, could she have it, and he said, 'well, you'll just get it anyway, don't know why you bother asking'.

I just remember thinking they were quite young and that it felt weird to see a woman asking her partner if she was allowed to buy something. I can't ever imagine that relationship with my other half. Even over the last year, he's been the 'breadwinner' while I work part time and spend more time on my writing. Even then I would never ask him for permission to do anything.

The thing is, each couple has a game they play in certain situations. That's possibly their particular game. She asks his permission, he acknowledges her asking, she does what she wants anyway. It's all about the balance of power

I might try to write in my hideous upstairs neighbours. If I can find a use for two drunken layabouts whose conversations consist of swearing at each other at the top of their voices. *sigh*

mirandashell said:

The thing is, each couple has a game they play in certain situations. That's possibly their particular game. She asks his permission, he acknowledges her asking, she does what she wants anyway. It's all about the balance of power

Click to expand...

I get it, but to me money is independence, and even having to go through a power play rigmarole suggests that she's lacking in independence, you know...

Still, it was a snippet in their lives. I can't really judge on that.

I don't hear too many interesting questions. More often than not I'm on the bus with students who have the most boring conversations ever:

'Omg, Admin Law is like the hardest exam evor. Wot mark did you get?'

'Like a 62. It was so bad. I'm so going to fail the essay, but, like, the lecture is at 9am and I just can't be arsed to go. You going out tonight?'

'Yeah, you?'

'Yeah.'

'Did you see ____ on Friday? They were wasted.'

'I know, it was well funny.'

'Tonight is gonna be well good.'

'Yeah.'

The worst thing is I know I was EXACTLY the same at Uni.

I heard a very sad conversation between two women. I assume sisters. The one sister looked emotionally bankrupt, and was crying. Her husband had done "it" again. The tone of the sisters reply led me to believe he had cheated. She told her to leave the lying SOB, because obviously he had no intention of ever stopping. The sister defended him, and it really struck me what she said.

"What about forever relationships? What about loving someone passed their mistakes and making it through the struggles? I'm a fool, and I'm tired of not feeling anything but shame."

I overheard the conversation a week or two ago and it had gnawed at me. Day before yesterday I had a writing prompt and the "broken woman" came alive in my writing. I changed her story. I wish I could have done it literally, but fictionally she got a new beginning.

Is that twisted or what? My husband thinks I'm odd.

I heard this one in my dentist's office last Friday. I was goofy on laughing gas and plugged into Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young on my i-pod. In a pause between albums I heard this:

Dr. Hopkins to nurse: "I'll need a smaller one."

Some scraping on the instrument tray. Nurse : "Here"

Dr. Hopkins: "Smaller" (I am a small person and the teensy roots on my molars have often flummoxed my dentists over the years.)

More scraping: "Here"

"That won't do. There has to be a smaller one."

Nurse (tersely): "This is the smallest."

Dr. H. sighs : "Guess I'll have to make it work."

I crank the i-pod and return to "If Only I Could Remember My Name."

Bringing this thread back to share something I heard in a coffee shop the other day. I dunno if I'll be able to use it, but maybe someone else can!

These two men in their forties were at the table behind mine, fancy execs by the looks of them. One was talking about how when he was in college, he'd started out as a music major before "stupidly" switching to finance. He'd had a custom-made trumpet worth thousands of dollars, and when he quit the major a friend offered to buy it from him with payments. He agreed--but the friend only made a couple of payments before absconding.

"It wrecked me for years," the guy said. "I would have dreams about finding this so-called friend and beating the s**t out of him." (The other exec was nodding and mm-hmm-ing, clearly not that interested.)

"Well," the first guy says, "you'll never guess what happened the other day. I saw a flyer for a show at [local bar] and get this, it's the a**hole who stole my horn. So I was thinking about showing up there and confronting him. Maybe he still has it."

Maybe it's just because I play music too and I'd be murderous if someone stole my trombone, but I was hooked. I keep wondering if the guy did end up going to the show or getting his trumpet back.

When I was between classes at uni people-watching almost became a hobby. Not that the presence of many pretty women affected that... *ahem*

During one of my numerous trips to see my consultant, they were once again running late. The corridor was full, including one particular woman who clearly never needs a phone because she could just shout to whoever she wanted to speak to, anywhere in the world. She regaled us all with the latest (for the time) exploits of 'Shirley' from Worksop. The only thing I took away from the whole trip was that this Shirley doesn't like beaches.
Then there's the people around you encounter. On one bus trip I met a chap who, amongst other things, nearly got blown up going to the pub during the blitz and rubbed shoulders with the rich and famous on cruises during the fifties. At the library I'm working at we've got a fellow former student (equally disillusioned) and a man who was a health and safety inspector.

Like LOTLOF, I have friends I talk to online. Both being gamers, my conversations with one often get pretty surreal. It was during one of these conversations that the line "You know something went wrong in your life when you're being chased round a cave by an angry, one-armed zombie" was uttered. I have made it my mission to one day work that into my writing.

When I eavesdrop (and yes I admit doing it sometimes), what I'm looking for is more the rhythm of conversation, and less ideas for a story.

Then I use what I learned from the practice story, to carry those writing principles over to a different story with my own characters.

Had to resurrect this because of a conversation I overheard today between the girls in my homeroom.

Amy: "You know how you always think nobody is stupider than Cristian? Alonso is."

(Cristian and Alonso are senior jocks; nice looking boys but no scholars.)

Tania: "Alonso has gotten stupider since he got that stupid tattoo gun off e-bay. He wanted to give me one of his free tattoos but I'm not that stupid!"

Amy: "I thought he was only giving free tattoos for two weeks."

Tania: "Well, he was, but he has to hide the gun from his mom so he doesn't get much practice so he has to give them away free until he gets better. He keeps turning his screw ups into smiley faces and rabbits."

Amy: "That's why Cristian has to wear long sleeves now."

Amy: "Yeah. His Mom and Dad are going to kill him. You can't hide something like that from your own parents. Did you hear about the girl in Great Bend with the boob?"

Tania: "Oh yeah. She should have never asked Alonso to spell anything!"