Earwig’s Delight: Not for the Scatologically Squeamish

Here are two conversations I earwigged this morning as I made my way into Manhattan. The first is not for the faint of heart, so if you are baffled by bowel movement talk and all of its intrigues, skip down to the bonus (albeit less shocking) conversation.

Convo 1. As I made my way to the shuttle this morning, I found myself the unwitting witness of a young couple talking about a bathroom crisis. You may wonder just how close I was to be able to hear such an intimate conversation that was clearly not meant to be shared with 9 am commuters, however, dear reader, I certainly was not hovering between them. They were not whispering…oh, no. They were neither discreet, nor quiet:

Girlfriend: Oh my god, I’m going to crap myself.
Boyfriend: So, let’s go find a bathroom.
Girlfriend: (aghast). EWA. Not here.
Boyfriend: Where then, in your pants? You use public bathrooms all the time!
Girlfriend: (hissing loudly, clearly annoyed) To PEE. Not ‘the other’. And then I can stand.
Boyfriend: So, stand then!
Girlfriend: Then I won’t have leverage.
Boyfriend: (clearly fed up by the diva-like behavior) Jesus Christ, just go poop already!

I didn’t get the conclusion of this emergency, as just then, the Ebony Hillbillies, my absolute favorite street performers, began doing their thing—their loud and crazy country instruments flushing the poop talk away.

Convo 2. On the shuttle, I grabbed a seat and gasped as a very large object suddently appeared in my face, moving toward me at an alarming rate. It was a backside, and it belonged to an obese, middle-age woman who wedged herself into the two chairs next to me. I thought she was alone until she leaned over me, her watermelon breasts settling into my lap, and spoke to an equally large (younger) version of herself (daughter?) and a young, thin, hipster boy standing at her side (boyfriend? brother?).

Big Mamma: We gotta get him some new shoes.

(mother, daughter, boyfriend and me all look downwards. Said shoes were reminiscent of the popular 80s Keds sneakers, color blue, with various gaping holes revealing dirty socks).

Boyfriend: yeah, I know. But I, like, love these shoes.
Girlfriend: You, like, need titanium shoes.
Boyfriend: Yeah, I, like, saw these cool sneakers that had, like an inner and outer layer, that kind of like, prevented holes.
Girlfriend: Your lips are chapped.
Boyfriend: I know.
Girlfriend: I have stuff, like, for your lips.
Boyfriend: No, it’s ok.
Girlfriend: You’re just going to endure it?
Boyfriend: (shrugs, beginning shades of annoyance).
Girlfriend: Is it a germ thing?
Boyfriend: Uh…I just don’t really, like, like it.
Girlfriend: But more because of the germs?

Instant relief when the train stopped at Times Square so I could escape the tag-team accosting of this poor boy. Our car opened in the narrowest part of the platform (about half a foot wide). As she attempted to exit, Big Mamma turned to me and said, “looks like we aren’t exiting here,” in annoyance and pushed past me to the second car where the platform could accommodate her size. Begging to differ, I stepped off where I was.