
I sit down and check my boarding pass.
“First time to Singapore?” asks the elderly gentleman next to me.
He’s clearly an expert, for my “yeah” cues strings of anecdotes about his travels in Asia.
“Please stop,” I think but am too polite to say.
“Ah, we’re boarding!” he says mid-story, springing up like a 20-year-old to get to the front of the queue.
Relieved, I get on the plane and walk to my seat, 48C.
“Ah, we meet again!” pipes a voice from 48D.
“Now, where was I? Ah, yes, my trip to Tokyo in ‘73 …”.