One nice thing about indoor volleyball games is that they don’t get rained out. No such luck with the tournament Jeanhee and I hoped to play in this past Saturday. We took the train out to Long Beach early and hung around a bit until the organizers made the decision. We spent the morning in a dinky boardwalk diner/nightclub reading the New York Times and waiting for Jeanhee’s mom to drive down to pick us up.

After a bit, four old men came in and sat at a table not far from ours. They were around sixty or seventy years old. Their conversation was so fascinating that the Arts & Leisure section became merely a cover for our eavesdropping. They spoke of women, mainly, and the things that come along into men’s lives with them. Sex, heartache, love, etc. They told stories and laughed and bragged. The conversations weren’t so different from the ones I might have with three male friends. Some things don’t change much, I guess.