In the Jay Street metro station a loud conversation is taking place next to the stairwell. I’m distracted by something on the opposite platform, so I don’t pay much attention until the ‘conversation’ (which I realize is a one-sided conversation) reaches an inescapable decibel level. My curiosity aroused, I circle in for a closer look, and what I see surprises me: a teenage girl is yelling into a phone standing next to 30-something, well-dressed man. She continues with her rant, yelling about having to ‘Charge my goddamn phone’ and ‘Why didn’t you call me back right away?’ Because of their proximity to one another, and the fact that the man is looking on blankly while she yells into the phone, I first take him to be her boyfriend or companion. The shouting continues uninterrupted for several minutes until the F train arrives and I board. Before the doors close I hear the young woman say, ‘Yo, I’m done talking!’ – and with that she shoves the phone in the man’s hand and storms off up the stairs. Finally I understand the scenario: the young woman has asked the man to use his phone, and he agreed, not suspecting the nature of the conversation that would ensue – and, once it was underway, was unable to stop it.