Aah!  A perfect morning!  Dress, pack, chant, meditate…leisurely drive to the airport…on my way to spend a glorious weekend with thousands of lesbians…and a few gay guys who love any kind of party…in Palm Springs for the Dinah Shore festivities.

I’m on yet another early morning flight, thoroughly prepared to pass out as soon as I’m seated.  However, my best-laid plans are thwarted by the ceaseless chatter that’s going on in the back of my head in the two seats in the row behind me.  A mother and daughter on their way to a relative’s wedding have decided to stage their reunion on the plane in high-pitched voices that are causing my head chakra to explode.  I don’t want to know this much about these strangers.  I want them to remain “strangers.”  That’s why we don’t wear nametags on planes.

In the good ole days of plane travel – BC – “Before Cellphones” – nirvana was to be found in the quietude before boarding.  Silent prayers filled the waiting area and avid book readers turned pages with barely a rustle.  Reading is still soundless on Kindles and Nooks, but the intrusive chatter is everywhere!

Now, don’t get me wrong.  I was born and raised in the loudest city on the planet – New York City!  Thus, my spiritual attraction to Any City, California, where I learned to quietly meditate about nothing at all.  With years and years of solo travel, I’ve achieved an almost monk-like appreciation of the silent sounds of life.

Am I the only one who misses the joys of whispering, of honoring public space by lowering your voice lest your nearby neighbor hear all of your unsolicited business?  Was my generation so medicated that the only real chatter we heard was from the committees in our heads?

Well, you can’t read a magazine today that does not extol the virtues of meditation to beat stress and to appreciate the soundless wonders of daily living.  Tell me I am not the only one reading these articles!  Is everyone else reading “Let’s Talk Louder” or “Privacy – What Is It?”

Listen, I chose not to self-medicate and to meditate instead so I could find inner peace in this busy, crazy world.  But if everyone keeps talking louder and invading my privacy in public spaces, I may have to reevaluate my decision, and not by ordering a vente cafĂ© latte.  It may have to be more drastic, like dispensing mufflers with those cellphones.

As life would have it, my dear friend just told me that I’m loud, though she rationalized it by saying that most public speakers project their voices. 

Well, whatever!  As long as I’m not shouting in the back of your head on an airplane, it’s cool.  Loud Lesbians Unite!  Let’s shout our way
to freedom.

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