Cell phone conversations you'd rather not hear

Okay. Right here. Not too crowded. I have about two hours until boarding. My book, a bottle of water, some roasted almonds and this chair. Flip open the pages. Where was I? ''I'm right here. It's OK. I love you. I will never leave you …''

Hold on one minute. Who is this and what's she doing with that cell pho ... oh, jeez.

''It was just beautiful … only seven minutes from the beach … only $4,300 a month … it's mostly decorated already so I just have to move in my stuff in and I'll be all set…''

Is she really going to have this personal conversation in front of everyone in Terminal F at O'Hare? Is this how God intended us to use cell phones? I don't think so.

For those who are unsure, here's why we have them: To make required, absolutely necessary, must-do, have-to-update-you-right-now or have-to-respond-to-this-voicemail-right-away calls that are necessary to keep our lives running smoothly. That's it. There is no other reason to use a cell phone. None. Certainly not for information like this:

''I mean, I hate it where I am. I don't need to be treated that way. If they treated me better I'd work there for free! But I have people working for me who make $8 an hour … you get what you pay for, right? I have to type my own letters, do all my own paperwork and I'm seeing about 15 patients a day…''

Wait just another minute. This woman is a doctor? Aren't doctors kind of -- I don't know -- educated? If that's true, how does she not understand how annoying it is for the rest of us to hear every blessed detail of her life? Is that too obtuse a concept?

Back to my book. ''The next morning's meditation is a disaster. Desperate, I beg my mind to please step aside and let me find God …''

''…and there's this nude beach nearby (I'm guessing near her new house, not near her office). But everyone there is old like me so I don't really know who would go!''

This is insane. Everyone should be required to know the unwritten rules about using cell phones in public. The most important one states that the longest conversation you may have when others are in earshot will last no more than three minutes, and that's only if you're saying good night to a spouse, three children and the dog before hanging up. Even then, most of those conversations should include one or more of the following words or phrases: ''traffic,'' ''delayed,'' ''heard from the doctor's office,'' ''on my way,'' ''missed the bus,'' ''pick up milk,'' or ''practice ended late.'' Not things like this:

''And then -- you won't believe this -- they plowed up my tulips. You know, the garden I planted … yeah … with my own money! I mean I would've moved them if they had asked me, but they didn't. So now hundreds of tulips won't come up because they have something against me.''

I'm starting this paragraph in my book for the fifth time and will keep going this time: ''That whole next day, in fact, I'm so hateful and angry that I fear for the life of anyone who crosses my path.'' Perfect!

''I mean, they got mad at me for giving a speech and not asking their permission! And I got them a $20,000 donation! Can you imagine this is how they treat me? I think I'm doing the right thing, I really do…''

That's it. I have to move or I'll lose my mind. Wait -- wait -- who's this? Husband, no doubt. Waving his arms in a ''we're leaving now!'' frantic kind of motion. Phone snaps shut. Off they go. Silence.

Back to my book: ''I don't want anyone to talk to me. I can't tolerate anyone's face right now.'' Perfect, yet again.

Here's the latest entry to my ''If I ruled the world'' list: Use your cell phone anywhere in an airport as long as your conversation lasts no longer than three minutes and I hear about one-third of it at best. If you plan to speak longer -- and more inanely -- you must be in a designated smoking area. You can also use the restrooms. So go ahead and yak for hours. You just have to hang out in the bathroom to do it.

Leave the rest of us in peace, with nothing but the F.A.A. terror-alert-raised-to-orange updates, the ''think 3-1-1'' tips about carrying on our toiletries, the gate-change announcements, the beeping cars and the ''your plane is in the air'' reassurances to interrupt our thoughts.

Renée A. James lives in Allentown. Her e-mail address is raaj3@msn.com