Marge and Trixie

After boarding the tour bus, Marge and Trixie took their seats directly in front of me.  For two, harmless tourists from Oklahoma, they scared me.

Whenever I see older women in couples or in groups, I figure if I would be grouped with women in about 20 years.  This would still be my worst nightmare.  For years, statistics have told our society that women normally outlive men.  All of my life, I was never “one of the girls”.  Looking back, I had very few female friendships.  If I did run in a pack, it was on weekends, and you could count on me being sober.  My job was driving everyone home after Girls Night Out. 

I figured Marge and Trixie were at least mid-60.  Physically, they were different.  Marge was tall, and Trixie was petite, and both ladies had extra pounds in the usual middle age places.  But if you looked at them, they were similar in a lot of ways.   Their appearance and mannerisms told me that they had known each other for a very long time.  If you ask me, couples or friends who have been together much too long always look alike.

Marge grabbed her smart phone from her purse, and both ladies began talking to one of their husbands back home. 

 

“How are the dogs?” inquired Marge.  “Did they get their medication this morning?”

Trixie took the phone and spoke excitedly.  “You should be here.  I was a hit at Karaoke last night.  We’re having so much fun.”

“You should have seen her,” added Marge as she took the phone from Trixie.  “They asked her to sing, again.  Twice, she got up there.  Yes, she was that good.”  Not to be outdone by her friend, Marge bragged that she had met most of the 2010 Amway management team from Thailand.  She added that there were 900 of them, and she proudly mentioned she had conversations with most of them. 

“You should be here,” said Marge, needing to mirror her friend’s enthusiasm.  “We are just having too much fun.”

Neither of them said when they were coming home.  Tonight, Marge planned on meeting the remaining 900 from 2010 Team Amway Thailand.

They wore platinum wedding sets punctuated with above average diamonds.  No half carats for these women.  Long before right hand rings came in vogue, they wore custom made rings on their right hands, and as a favorite animal, they chose an owl motif.  They wore the same style of Nike running shoes and pantsuits.  They bought for the trip, only in different colors. 

 

As they spoke, you had to notice that both women“talked” with their hands.  Professionally done and freshly painted, their tastefully short fingernails were painted in what they thought was a flattering, yet fashionable shade of deep, pastel pink.

Right before our stop, Marge took out her comb and whipped it through her hair.  She shook her head from side to side, as if motion would bring volume to her locks.  She was either pretending to be a high fashion model in a commercial or thought of herself as the attractive young girl she used to be.  With perfect streaks of color which could not possibly be found in nature, Marge’s hair color was definitely out of a box. 

Trixie brought out a wand of lip gloss covered with pink goop to match her fingernails.  Without looking at a mirror, she showed her expertise and painted her lips without missing them.  The wand was old, and was fully loaded with color from handle to swab.

How did I know so much about these women?

It’s something I learned in college.  My English instructor suggested whenever we are in public; we should always listen in to other peoples’ conversations.  Don’t consider this rude.  As long as you don’t get caught doing it, the skill, if done properly, is a way to get ideas for writing stories or building characters.  It can also entertain you.

For years, I’ve been doing this.  I’ve taught my ex and current husband this skill.  I’ve gotten so good at it that I don’t have to take notes.

“You know what I’ve been doing all this time we’ve been on this cruise?” asked Marge.

Trixie screwed the cap back on her lip gloss and dropped it into her cavern-sized tote bag.  “What?”

“I keep track of my sales receipts before bedtime.”

“I do the same,” confessed Trixie.  “If we didn’t sign up for this tour, we could have had more time to shop.”

For a moment, they leaned against each other and giggled.

“It would be cheaper if we were home.  Fishing.”   Marge snorted and rummaged through her purse.  She waved her coupon book in the air when she found it.  “Did you bring yours?  We have to shop at some of these places after the tour.  We’ll have time.”

“Yes,” said Trixie with the smile of a shopping enthusiast.  “Let’s do that.”

“Yes, I already know what I want to buy,” replied Marge as she flipped through the turned down corners to the pages in her frayed coupon book with excitement.  

"Let's."