Hush, Hush - Voices Carry

I'm sure most of you can relate to the following. You're in a small-time, Indian-run casino in the northwoods of Wisconsin or northern New Mexico or nowhere Montana - okay, let's just call it Wisconsin so you can better imagine the landscape. You're somewhere between hangover number one and the one that follows - but that's all right because you're on vacation in big gulp country.

You find yourself at a blackjack table where the cards aren't falling your way and at the other end of the table are a He-and-Mrs. Jones you vaguely remember from some other casino or bar. They seem to remember you, too. Because they are talking and, among other things, what they are talking about is you. Two things make this clear: One - they try very hard and very poorly not to appear to be talking about you and Two - when one says "Shhhh - he can hear you" the other replies, "He can't hear me way over there." It makes things a little weird, a little uncomfortable. Plus, it's killed your buzz.

So you're out of there. Off that table where the cards are ugly and weirdness prevails and you wander the floor shaking hands with the bandits who break you one twenty at a time.