I’m riding into downtown when the bus pulls to the curb and two women board. One sits next to me and the other sits three seats in front of us. Suddenly the woman next to me starts shouting. I jump in my seat. But her friend grins and shouts something back. They engage in a cheery loud-talking session. And don’t stop.
Maybe the bus resembles their living room, because they’re operating like they’re still in it.
The woman next to me unleashes an ear-splitting laugh. But it doesn’t really bother me. Why? Because I can’t understand what they’re saying. They’re shouting in a language I can’t understand. So they sound like just another external noise, like the bus engine revving. It’s nothing like having to listen to someone barking English into a cell phone and complaining about a bad boyfriend.
I think about those people who want a law making English the official language of America. Why would you want to do that? If people complied (which they wouldn’t) you could imagine the resulting horrors. You’d be able to understand every petty quibble around you, a total nightmare. Non-English speakers are actually doing us a huge favor.
The woman at my side flashes her hands in the air, objecting to her friend’s comment. It looks like the “conversation” is turning bad and the two are moving into the Jerry Springer zone. She roars out her disagreement and I decide to get off a few blocks early. But as I step off the bus I realize that I’m down with multi-lingualism. I was very fortunate to not be able to understand a word of what they were saying. Or shouting, really.
Maybe it is time for a Quiet Seat on the bus?
I’ve traveled a lot and I’m convinced most people think if you can’t understand them, you can’t hear them.