Mr. Impropriety

Week ending 2/2/07:
Why do some people believe total strangers are interested in their life story? Some guy got on in Newark on his way to D.C. He was sitting across the aisle. No sooner did he sit down, but he felt compelled to start his rap. His name was Ned. He was coming back from a business meeting. Going to D.C. to fly to Chicago, his home. He couldn't wait to get home to see his new girlfriend (the guy is probably mid 50's, wearing a suit). He's going through a divorce, but his soon-to-be ex is a gem! He has a great relationship with her. He just knows they'll remain best friends! Yeah right! He travels all the time for business. And, oh, by the way, do I mind holding his seat while he goes to the cafe car, 'cause he needs a drink? Before I can answer, he's off. Back in 10 with two vodkas. Boy, I'm glad that his cocktails really got him to open up. On and on with way too much information, and never once having it cross his mind that (a) it's really inappropriate to spill your guts to total strangers; and (b) who gives a shit; and (c) other people are busy with more important stuff to do and unless your condemned to a nursing home with nothing but time, than that's the only way someone may be able to listen to this dribble. Another trip to the bar and more personal confidental. Finally I had to turn my light off and act like I've crashed. As I peek out of one eye I see and then hear him lean over the seat in front of him "Hi. My name is Ned, I'm on my way to D.C........"