Sometimes You Don't Know How Dull You Are Until You're Standing In Line at the Grocery Store

A case for being more interesting.

“How do you like those sneakers?” a stranger asked me of my Ons while we waited in a sloth-moving check-out line.

I knew a conversation was coming. You’ve been there, too. When the person at the register reaches for their wallet, which still holds coins 🤯, you know your instant-gratifying self is DYING to scream, “WHO USES COINS ANYMORE?? Watch me pay for my 137 items in less than three seconds—with my watch!!!”

Never knowing how people will perceive me—not that I’m a monster, unless someone is paying with coins—I’m weary when engaging in small talk with strangers.

He was an older man, though—as if that makes him any less likely to be a sour, cynical bastard ready to stick his tongue out if I look at him the wrong way—did my childhood just pop in here?—but his shopping cart informed me of his affinity for Lays potato chips. Off the bat, we had one thing in common.

Turns out the older gent is a misplaced Californian living in NY who ran marathons but excelled at the 400-yard dash; who performed on Broadway for years singing, dancing, and “doing it all”; who never made his way to London—his original destination before NYC got in his way — because opportunities kept coming up that he couldn’t say no to. (I’m still thinking about what possible opportunities could make one give up living in London where you get to say, in normal conversation, words like brilliant, wanker, and dench!)

He then asked about me and where I was from, and this is where our story ends—when you have to admit that a snail has covered more ground than you in 40+ years, the conversation loses its flow.

In life, people you chance upon have subtle messages for you. Others, not so subtle. This was a foghorn.

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