Chatty Cathy

Twelve hours after take off, I was on another flight back to DC after a successful but tiring day in New York. Before being able to turn on my iPod, the stranger next to me sparked up a conversation. (I hate when that happens. I am not a fly-and-gab kind of person.)

But because he was nice enough and because, well, it was too early to turn on any electronic devices, I got roped into a chat.

Turns out he's a real estate attorney for Verizon and has been for 22 years. Learning that he lived in Alexandria, I pictured him in one of those giant homes in the neighborhood where I walk Lucy. I was surprised to learn that he lives in Park Fairfax, a cluster of quaint, modest townhouses--and has for many years. He's not married (that I could tell), takes the bus to work downtown, seems to be the world's biggest penny-pincher (for example, he doesn't shop at Costco because he doesn't go through three or four rolls of paper towels in an entire year, he says), and was not in the least bit flashy.

Thinking back, actually, this guy did a lot of the talking. And most of it I couldn't care less about. That said, the hour passed as quickly as it would have otherwise.

What I really wanted to ask him--the incessant question that wove in and out of my mind during the entire conversation--was what on earth he spends his money on. A single guy living in a small townhouse making big bucks in corporate real estate. I really should have inquired because this is going to bug me for awhile.

I got home and was still obsessing about this guy to Chad. "But how do you think he spends his money?" I said. "Do you think he just invests it all? That's so boring!"

Chad stopped what he was doing, turned around, and replied: "That's exactly what you'd be like if you hadn't married me."

Touché.