The Conversation

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic

Ludicrous and Plausible

THE CONVERSATION

 
“Women are the most dishonest creatures on Earth.”
 
Huh? What was that? The voice came behind me.
 
“Women are the most dishonest creatures on Earth.”
 
He repeated it. Out loud. In public.
 
People were sitting all around the airport terminal. The area was compacted. People were sitting elbow to elbow. All kinds of people. I kinda choked on my double latte. The voice seemed to carry and echo through the West side of the terminal. Everybody heard it. Everybody turned around.
 
ALERT! ALERT! There’s a crazy person behind me. 
 
My first instinct was to get up and move to another area. The problem was, there was no other area. It was packed. No more empty seats anywhere. I was stuck.
 
To be honest, I wasn’t in the group, where the voice came from. They were behind where I was sitting. But, looking up at the angled, mirrored, glass panel of the Chinese fast food restaurant in front of me, it dawned on me, I might possibly have a grand seat to watch, what might be, a ‘car wreck moment’ and a possible distraction from the boredom of the long delay in my flight back home.
 
I tried to zone in on where exactly the statement had originated, in the crowded waiting section. I was surprised to see that most of the travelers in that section, were females of various ages, and ethnicities. They were all looking at one gentleman, sitting in the middle of the group. Various expressions were on each face I could see in the mirror. Some of the older females looked surprise. Some of the younger females expressed immediate anger. Uh-oh, could be trouble, I thought. You don’t say stuff like that nowadays. Not in public. Not an old white guy, anyway. Don’t be too fast, I thought. The ‘Society of Manhood Brotherhood ‘devil inside of me, prompted me to withhold judgement and see what was going to happen next. This might be fun.
 
“Women are the most dishonest creatures on Earth.”
 
I’ll be damn. He SAID it again. I wondered if he left a suicide note at home before his flight.
 
Through the glass, I could see one of the younger, militant prone, females, in the crowd, wasn’t going to take such an outlandish statement without a rebuttal.
 
“Shut up, you old fool. You don’t know what you’re talking about. Why would you say such crap.”
 
She was young. Educated. Liberal arts degree probably. You could tell by the way she rolled her vowels. I learned how to pick out her type by watching cable news. She probably had a can of mace, disguised as deodorant, in her carry-on luggage.
 
The old guy, sat there, seeming hesitant to acknowledge her. I thought, coward. The guy is really a coward. He is just trying to start some crap and get attention.
 
He really wasn’t anything special. Coat normal. Cowboy hat, normal. Cowboy boots with high heels, normal. Worn, old faded blue jeans, normal. Really long white beard, hanging down to his chest…well, that might not be too normal. His left hand twitched like there was something wrong with his coordination. He turned his body in the cramped chair, and faced the young woman. The old guy wasn’t backing down, AFTER ALL.
 
“Well, finally, I have found somebody to share a conversation. Somebody with some backbone. Thank you young lady. Would you like me to explain why ‘Women are the most dishonest creatures on earth’?” The old man waited for an answer from the female who accosted him.
 
So, I thought, he isn’t a coward after all. My mistake. My respect for the doomed man rose a little bit. He was still crazy though.
 
He spoke in a deep voice. For someone obviously disturbed, his word articulation was perfect. Teacher, college professor maybe? No. No way. A professor would never say anything like that in public. Preacher, motivational speaker, insurance salesman, maybe? I ran through a list in my head, trying to put the old guy into some type of category, which would help me understand his motives in publicly exposing the streak of stupidity, that all males possess. I wanted to bury my head, thinking it might disguise the fact I was a man. Ostriches do it. Might work for me.
 
The younger woman seem to relax. You could tell almost tell what she was thinking. If the old guy wants a gender debate, she was ready for battle. The other women leaned forward. The group of females, in a matter of seconds, had become a pack. The young feminist had become their pack leader simply for the fact she was the first to vocalize their displeasure at the man. You could tell by the looks on their faces, they were eagerly anticipating the total embarrassment and dismemberment of the sexist and racist idiot, sitting amongst them. It was now a blood sport. I cringed for the poor man. But… I could not stop watching the mirror. People pay hundreds of dollars to watch professional wrestling. I was going to be able to witness a match for free. I wondered if I should take my phone out and start videoing the group. My YouTube page needed a boost.
 
“No, I don’t want to hear you spout any sexist bullshit. No, I don’t want to have a conversation with you. Just sit over there and shut your mouth!” The woman’s voice got louder when she realized she had center stage. Being louder in an argument is adequate proof of being right, as most young college students are aware.
 
“Wait a minute. I’m interested in hearing why he thinks women are dishonest”
 
Another young woman spoke up. She was along the lines of the first young woman. College student probably. In my quick judgmental, analysis through the mirror, she didn’t impress me as a Liberal Arts Major, though…Science, Engineering or Math, maybe? Someone whose curiosity for learning and understanding, didn’t stop in the classroom. She had the classical confused look on her face. She was pretty though. Much prettier than the now deflated warrior of womanhood, who had spoken first. The militant female, disappointed at being replaced by a political sister, leaned back in her seat, and waited for the right moment to gut the hapless man in the middle of the waiting area.
 
The old man, pushed the cowboy hat back on his head, and turned to the female who had figuratively, opened the door for him to express his opinion. It had suddenly gotten quiet in the immediate area, as if everyone wanted to hear the last words of a doomed man. They weren’t sure about him. I wasn’t either. Dementia, maybe? Alzheimer’s? Something had to be wrong with this man.
 
“Thank you, young lady. Although it might sound disrespectful, I mean it as a comment on society and the demands put on young women to be dishonest. I can give you some examples, if you like.”
 
‘Flight 309 to Nashville is now loading at Gate 32B. Flight 309 to Nashville is now loading at Gate 32B.’
 
The voice blasted over the public intercom. Crap. Just a few minutes. I can’t leave now. It was getting good behind me. I wanted to see if the old guy might be wearing a cape. Surely, a person, who might have an intellectual thought about gender division, and not afraid to express it in public… surely, that person must be a super hero. I picked up my bag off the floor. A few more minutes, then I would have to go. Several of the people sitting in the group behind me, picked up their bags also, but didn’t move. They were also interested in what crap was going to come out of the mouth of this sexist fool. Several of the women had their phones out, videoing the man in the middle. FaceBook and Twitter get ready, I thought.
 
The man stroked his beard as he spoke. It was like he was in a classroom almost. Teacher, maybe? I might have been wrong in my first analysis. 
 
“Look at every one of you,” he said, motioning to the women sitting around him, “every one of you have stuff on your face to hide what you really look like. That’s dishonest.”
 
Whoa, I thought. Where is this guy going. That makes sense… in a weird way.
 
He continued. “Most of you are wearing some type of clothing to hide your fat thighs, sagging breasts, or flabby underarms…that’s dishonest.
 
Oh, shit. Did he just say that? I stood up to leave.
 
“Businesses,” he continued, “are making billions of dollars in promoting that dishonesty. Little girls are taught early their value is based on their looks and their looks can be manipulated to improve their chances at meeting society’s approval. It’s sad really. Dishonestly becomes an acceptable norm and the way you actually look is considered harmful in some way. Look at all these women paying money for skin graffiti and think somehow it enhances their looks. Dishonest, if you ask me.”
Yep, that settled it, I thought…the guy is nuts.
 
‘Final Call for Flight 309 to Nashville. Loading at Gate 32B. Final Call for Flight 309 to Nashville. Loading at Gate 32B.’ The loudspeaker added to my urgency to get up and move.
 
I didn’t look back as I hurried to catch my plane, I thought about the conversation I had just heard. I kind of felt sorry for the old gentleman and hoped he had someone to take care of him. ’Skin graffiti’? What was that? Than it dawned on me…oh, tattoos.
 
I wanted to stay and see what happened. I wondered if the old man’s body would be discovered somewhere on the airport property. He was asking for it, for sure, although it was obvious he was off mentally.
 
Women are the most dishonest creatures on earth?
Pretty harsh, I think… but, make-up, spandex and skin graffiti… I guess some people might consider that is dishonest.
 
What do you think?

 

As someone who likes women pretty much the way they are, and interested in self preservation, I’m staying out of it. Share this and maybe that old guy’s family will see it and get him some help.
A bodyguard would be the first I would hire…


Submitted: October 06, 2022

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HOUDINI

Interesting article...
The greatest "sin' of all mankind is self deception and we are all masters of the Art. There's nothing we cannot convince ourselves of if we want to do so...Women are especially vulnerable to this starting with Eve and a snake.

Thu, November 24th, 2022 12:52am

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