Inadvertent stars and their great dialogue shine in ‘Overheard Theatre’

Welcome, friends, to “Overheard Theatre,” a serendipitous melding of journalism, dramatic arts and oldfashioned eavesdropping in which regular folks are the playwrights as well as the actors. To participate, all you have to do is listen.

That’s what I do. I’ve been paid to listen for a very long time, and over the years I’ve found there are times (often, often) when the mutterings of “newsmakers” are not nearly as interesting as the passing conversations of strangers.

Each day we overhear portions of verbal exchanges that go on around us. Every now and then a fleeting bit of chitchat is like a two- or three- or four-line play being performed right in front of us. Drama or comedy or farce.

I copy down some of those dialogues.

It’s not a reality show; it’s reality. It’s “Overheard Theatre.” In a downtown office building lobby:

Man 1: “I know when to shut up — I was married once.”

Man 2: “Really? You’re not mar-

ried now because you don’t know when to shut up.”

In concession stand line at Chase Field: Fan 1: “Who’s pitching?” Fan 2: “Who cares? We’re at a ballgame, man.”

Fan 1: “If I was playing, I’d care who was pitching.”

Fan 2: “If you were playing, nobody would care.” In an elevator: Woman 1: “No one I know has any time.” Woman 2: “I know. Right?” Woman 1: “You doing anything tonight?”

Woman 2: “Nothing yet. You?” Woman 1: “No.” At the airport: Man holding large takeout sandwich: “Do you think I can bring this on board?

Woman next to him: “I’m not even sure I can bring on board.”

Man: “What if you had a choice, this or me?” Woman: “It would depend.” Man: “On what?” Woman: “How long’s the flight?” At the barbershop: Boy 1, in waiting area, furiously tapping at a video game on smartphone: (click, click, click, click, click …)

Boy 2, next to first boy, furiously tapping at a video game on smartphone: (click, click, click, click, click …)

Boys’ mother to nearby customer: “Don’t you just cherish these family moments?”

In the Mystery section at Bookmans on 19th and Northern avenues:

Woman leafing through a Sue Grafton novel: “I’d love to be one of those writers who can do a series like this (The book in her hand is “H is for Homicide” from Grafton’s “alphabet series.”)

Friend: “Why don’t you try writing one?”

Woman: “I think I could come up with a decent detective, but there’s no way I could keep coming up with ways to kill people.”

Friend: “Then I guess you’ll never be an author.”

In a long checkout line at the grocery story, early in the morning:

Customer 1: “Really, only one open register? Some of us have to get to work.

Customer 2, holding a package of diapers: “Some of us have an emergency.”

Customer 3, carrying two large boxes of doughnuts: “Tell me about it.”

Customer 2, nodding toward Customer 3: “We should let him go first.”

At the Buffalo Exchange vintage- and used-clothing store on Missouri Avenue:

Young woman holding up a Grateful Dead T-shirt she’s pulled from the rack: “We should get this for your dad.”

Young man nearby: “It’s bad enough as it is. I don’t want to encourage him.”

At a hearty-eaters restaurant:

Patron 1: “I’ll have the pastrami sandwich with the fries. And could I get double meat?” Waiter: “Sure.” Patron 2, to waiter: “And could you also get him a nitroglycerine pill with that?”

Waiter: “No need. We have a defibrillator.”

Patron 2: “In that case, I’ll have the same thing.”

THE END