BTW, this reminds me of the dullest man I ever met - while traveling on the cross country train from Chicago to LA.
Unless you're part of a group of 4, they put you with strangers for lunch and dinner (4 to a table). Anyway, this dullard was seated at my table for lunch and dinner.
He talked constantly about his antique photographs of milk containers if you know what I mean. Ignoring his 3 eating companions, every attempt at other topics was derailed into his favorite topic. How much each photo cost, how he'd snookered others into letting him take photos for cheap, or conversely how he unloaded his antique photos for twice their value. Some of them weren't even real antiques. They were only from the early sixties.
Unless you're part of a group of 4, they put you with strangers for lunch and dinner (4 to a table). Anyway, this dullard was seated at my table for lunch and dinner.
He talked constantly about his antique photographs of milk containers if you know what I mean. Ignoring his 3 eating companions, every attempt at other topics was derailed into his favorite topic. How much each photo cost, how he'd snookered others into letting him take photos for cheap, or conversely how he unloaded his antique photos for twice their value. Some of them weren't even real antiques. They were only from the early sixties.
Later I found out his name was Harry Weinstein.
