Random Acts of Interruption

Do you like guys who just come up to you and start talking? I don't mind it, really, and am actually fascinated by it.

Myself, I'm definitely not one of those guys. I'm like a social ninja -- you don't know I'm there and you don't know I've gone. I'm in -- with a beeline for the punchbowl -- I'm out. I prefer to keep my eyes averted and not to say too much.

But I'd like to have a "collection," some kind of "scrapbook" of these guys who occasionally come up to me and start talking. If I could do it, you know, it could be like my mother, who used to pin live butterflies to her curtains. They're up there flapping till they die, which could take months. (Wow, that was a terrible thing she did!)

I've had two close encounters lately that stick out in my mind. I only want to mention the most recent one, since he appeared sane enough. I'm at Subway, and the guy behind me is wondering what the $5 subs are. He's not really asking me, but I point him to the list, being a nice guy.

That's all the opportunity he needs. Now he's asking me if I know how Subway got their start, and he's explaining it. It seems there was a guy on his lunch break in New York one time, who brought various sandwich ingredients to his job. Then someone wanted to buy a sandwich from him. The next day he did the same thing. And before long that was all he did, made and sold sandwiches. According to my guy, that's why the Subway stores all have New York wallpaper!

I'm nodding, saying "Huh!," and making other appreciative noises as I make my way for the door, leaving him alone with the young lady working there.