My sad little rant was cut short when I was approached by a guy who was in the Starbucks at the time I was writing it. I put out into the universe that I was in need of company and company I received.
Kids, be careful what you wish for.
He sat down and we talked for a while. He seemed nice; tall, prematurely balding, a little goofy looking but an ostensibly harmless demeanor. Let’s face it though, I was so in need of conversation when he approached that I would have taken anyone. He revealed that he too is a “traveler,” (although I would hardly call myself a traveler, I’m certainly considered one whilst here in Ireland). Barry’s lived in Thailand, Tasmania, Beirut, Australia, New Zealand- you name it- he’s been there. At first I thought, “Wow, what a worldly fellow. I bet he’s got some interesting perspective or at least some decent stories to tell.”
Nope. In fact it turns out that this man is one of the least interesting people I have ever encountered in my life. Now I am not suggesting that in order for a person to be interesting they need to be witty or entertaining or even mildly intelligent. But at least have some fucking interests. Some opinions? I’ve had better conversations with a sac of peanuts.
I know what you’re thinking. Has she really had conversations with a sac of peanuts? It’s possible.
Anyway! As it turns out he is living in the same town as me. Oh, goody. So when we left Starbucks we took the train back together. Before we parted he asked if I had plans for the weekend.
Did I? Oh yes. Yes! Thank god, yes. I’m going to Galway tomorrow.
Sorry, Barry. Truly. I know I sound cruel but I just can’t bear another second of staring into your dead, dead eyes.
I’ll have that seat reserved in hell now. Thank you!
