Benny Jay: Conversation Crasher

It’s a rainy day in northern Michigan, and instead of lounging on the beach, I’m sitting on the porch of the Inn, talking to Jennie, my cousin Robert’s girlfriend.

She’s giving me a blow-by-blow description of “The Reader,” the movie about a former concentration camp guard, played by Kate Winslet, who has an affair with a sex-starved 15-year-old.

I thought about seeing it, but I didn’t cause I heard it was sad. And I have this thing about sad movies — I’m too scared to watch them.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to know about them.  So what I do is I find someone who’s seen the movie and then I get them to tell me everything that happens. That way I find out what happens without feeling sad. Am I genius or what? By the way, it works really well with scary movies too.

So, anyway, Jennie’s doing a great job, giving me all the details, scene-by-scene — frontal nudity included. She’s heading for the climax — no pun intended — when I heard a loud voice barking out my name: “Benny!”

I turn to look — it’s Double D.

Noooo!

Nothing against Double D.  So, okay, he’s this right-wing lawyer who hates Gays and has a notorious reputation for crashing conversations. But aside from that he’s really not a bad guy.

The thing is he’s dragging over some guy to meet me. “I’ve been meaning to introduce you two,” he says.

Great. The guy smiles at me and I smile at him.  I can see see he doesn’t want to meet me anymore than I want to meet him. But, really, what choice do we have? I mean, what are you supposed to do in this situation?  On the one hand, you want to be polite. On the other hand, why should you have to be polite?  I know it’s not the end of the world, but he is crashing my conversation.

Oh, what to do — where’s Dear Abby when you need her?

The thing is we’ve been going to this same Inn for the last two decades which means once a year in August we see the same people only they’re a year older. Not that I know all of them. Mostly, I might nod hello as we pass on the beach. In this case, I faintly remember seeing this guy eating with his family on the other side of the dining room.

“You’re from Chicago?” I ask.

“Yes,” he says.

“Me too,” I say.

That pretty much covers what we have to say to one another.

Meanwhile, Double D is looking on like a proud papa. I’m wondering: Does he  secretly enjoying our discomfort?

As for Jennie, she’s no dope. She sneaks away to the other side of the porch where my wife and a few other women are having a great conversation. Pretty soon the other guy sneaks away too. That leaves me with Double D, who’s telling me about his property tax appeal. I’m shooting dirty looks at Jennie, who’s having the time of her life with the girls on the other side of the porch.

Fast forward three hours. I’m walking through the inn and I see Jennie. She’s sitting on the sofa outside her room, eating a peach. I beg her to finish the story about the movie.

And just as she’s starting in, I hear: “Hey, Benny!”

I know who it is without looking.

“What are you talking about?” asks Double D.

“The Reader,” I say.

“Excuse me,” he says.

Did I tell you he was a little hard of hearing?

“The movie — `The Reader’,” I say.

Turns out he saw it. And he cuts off Jennie to tell me what he thought about it. Then my cousin starts in. And soon the two of them are barking and braying, trying to talk over each other, until it’s nearly impossible to figure out what any one’s saying.

Oh, well. I guess I can always rent the video and fast forward through the sad parts….