The title of this entry should be sung to "Wheels on the Bus" (warning: linked page plays music).

I sometimes think that cell phones bring out the worst in people. The button that activates their phone is the same one that deactivates their manners and consideration for those around them. It also skews their sense of reality, bringing somebody miles away to the front of their mind while shoving those within arm's length to the back. A perfect example of this behavior presented itself yesterday as I stood in line at Subway.

The line was long and I had been waiting for a few minutes to order. Usually, I pass the time trying to decide what I want, but yesterday was unusual. I knew exactly what I wanted, even before I entered the queue: a turkey and avocado club on honey oat.

I hadn't really taken much notice of the guy in front of me. He was an Asian guy in his early twenties of below average height and fashion sense. His most distinguishing features were his spiky hair and the cell phone he had been chatting on since I had gotten in line behind him. The person he was talking to must have been extremely important because he made no effort to end the call when it came time to order.

Server: (in a polite tone) And what would you like?
Asian Guy: (to the phone) Blah blah blah, hold on. (to the server) A six-inch ham. (to the phone) Hey, so like, blah blah blah...
Server: On what type of bread?
AG: (to the phone) Blah blah blah... (to the server) Um, Italian. (back to the phone)
(The server grabs a foot-long loaf of Italian from the tray)
AG: (blabbing on the phone, suddenly takes notice) Hey! I said six inches!
Server: I know, but I need to cut this in half to make it six inches.
AG: Whatever. (to the phone) Nothing. So, blah blah blah...
Server: (trying to ignore the phone) And what type of cheese would you like?
AG: Blah blah blah... (to the server) Huh?
Server: Cheese? What type?
AG: Um, cheddar. (to the phone) Anyway, blah blah blah...
Server: (finally fed up) Okay, well, we don't have cheddar and since you're on the phone, I'm going to give you American instead, okay? (holding the cheese over the sandwich)
AG: (oblivious) Blah blah blah...
(The server dumps the cheese on the sandwich, slides it over to the veggie station, shakes her head, gives me a look that says, "Can you believe this guy?" and asks for my order)
Me: (inwardly gloating about already knowing what I want) A turkey and avocado club on honey oat, please!

Incidentally, the person after me, a woman with big hair, a big laugh and a small vocabulary, consisting primarily of swear words, was also happily blathering on her cell phone as she tried to order. I felt sorry for the server and wished that she had the right to confiscate phones, snap them in half and return them to their owners. It would have been entirely satisfying after watching such blatant displays of disrespect.

As an experiment, I think there should be privacy booths erected in public places where people can conduct their personal conversations without disturbing others. I admit that I would miss the entertainment and the chance to write about those exchanges here, but honestly, I wouldn't miss it all that much.