On Being A Captive Audience. . . .

Sometimes, it is difficult to describe a person with just a single word. Today, I met someone for whom a one-word definition seemed most appropriate: motormouth. As in "Noun 1. motormouth - someone who talks incessantly."

While waiting for a friend to finish a business appointment in town, I found myself stuck in the car with a young man of some remarkable talent. Ought to be in the "Guinness Book of World Records" really, since he never came up for air for nearly two hours!! Nearly two hours of his chattering stream-of-consciousness which ran the gamut from his doctor's appointment (which was why he was with us), to his home life (which was more than I ever needed to know), to his experiences with a bully in elementary school (which was decades ago and bore no relevance to any other part of the monologue), to his many appearances on television (???), and on and on and on. There was actually never a pause long enough for me to even attempt to speak. . . .or to escape!

He must have sensed that my mind was starting to wander occasionally, because there were amazingly well-timed pats on the shoulder or exaggerated gestures at those very moments, bringing me back into his verbal world. When I saw our friend emerge from the office building, I have to confess to a small rush of relief and joy, knowing that we would soon be on the road with nothing more than the roar of an untuned engine to fill my ears! Something unexpected happened, though. . .

During the half-hour drive 'home', I actually had time to reflect a little on all that I had just heard. Maybe I had been too hasty in my judgment of this fellow passenger. Was he feeling so comfortable in my company that he wanted me to know him better and be a part of his world? Was he just very lonely, and glad to have another person to talk to about the things that make up his history and dreams? Did I mistake enthusiasm for boastfulness? Was he asking for a friend and not just a listening post? Had I assumed all the cliche things and missed the fun of those two hours?

When we arrived at our destination, I gave him a hug and said that I hoped I'd see him again sometime. He smiled a real smile. He was just a young man who probably missed his mother.