A little story; Talking to strangers

A couple of years ago I travelled to Washington D.C. to work on a five day project, installing a storage area network for a law firm. The customer's office was located in Georgetown, an area I think is called Foggy Bottom, near the Francis Scott Key bridge over the Patomac River into Virginia. Not knowing the area at all I had decided to stay in the Watergate Hotel, about half a mile from the customer's office.

Never having been to DC, and being a lover of history, I went out Saturday prior to the start of the project on Monday so I could spend some time sight seeing. I must have walked 20 miles Sunday, and being February it was still relatively cold. I loved seeing the monuments and even went to the Smithsonian. What a thrill. The national art gallery is something I'd recommend to anyone, even if you don't usually like art. It's awe inspiring.

The Watergate has a hotel complex, but also has condominium units where Condoleza Rice and former Secretary of Defense, Robert McNamara lived. I actually rode a stationary bike in the fitness center while Mr. McNamara was working out. Ironically enough, he wrote a book titlled "The Fog of War". I haven't read it. And I never spotted Dr. Rice either.

The rooms at the Watergate were ok. I'm sure they were first class once, but everything was aging, especially the carpets. Room service was good, and the lobby area was top notch with fine wood furniture and classic prints on the walls.

Each night, as I usually do, I'd visit the bar for a drink or two before settling into bed for the night. I even had a very nice steak dinner at the bar one or two of the nights there. I learned that this bar was favorite for the locals. Like much of the rest of DC, people were adorned in fine suits and dresses, except for me... I wore a suit every day for years when I worked in the 80's. I don't wear suits to work anymore.

The first night, while drinking a beer, eating bar nuts and listening to the multiple conversations I noticed an older gentleman sitting across the rectangularly shaped bar talking loudly... to nobody in particular, but also speaking to everyone at the same time.

I met some very interesting people there. A man who owned an international shipping firm; a woman who worked for another shipping firm, but one that handled food exports for charitable organizations to remote parts of the world. I met a couple of lawyers, but honestly, they weren't very interesting. There were others too. I just can't remember enough about them to write of them... except for the guy across the bar.

On one of the first few nights as I was discussing politics with another gentleman sitting next to me the man across the bar directed his open air conversation toward us. I don't remember exactly what the topic of discussion was, but apparently we had captured this man's attention. I was surprised how everyone was ignoring him, because he could be quite loud at times. This continued night after night. I would strike up a conversation with someone and he would begin directing his rant toward me. He seemed to be friendly with the bar staff, and I wondered just who he might be. "You really never could tell here", I thought. He could a politician, an influencial lawyer, a tycoon, or an ordinary citizen.

His intensity toward me had gotten to me so much that on the next to last night I was there I decided I was going to do something about it. I made sure to get to the bar early that night and I purposely sat in the very bar stool that he'd perched in each night that week. Before long I spied him entering the bar. He drifted behind me, then paced back and forth several times before taking a seat two stools to my right.

He was quite quiet for a long time after sitting down, only stopping the bartender on occasion to ask about the soup being served that night. I was getting the impression that the restaurant and bar staff wer accustomed to making exceptions for the man, including "giving" him soup. After about 30 minutes of his silence I asked the bartender to pour him a beer "on me" and I asked the man "How are you tonight?". Initially he was hesitant, and mumbly. I had to strain to hear what he was saying, however within a few minutes and my moving a stool closer to him we began to have a very nice conversation.

His name is Bill. He'd been going to the Watergate for over 30 years and was a retired accountant who'd worked for a construction contractor in DC as long or longerand he liked to fish in the Patomac. His wife had passed some years before and his children no longer lived in the area. We talked about how much DC had changed since he'd lived there, and about his career and the places he'd been and seen.

I was glad to have met Bill. He was a very interesting man. Each time since, when I have the occasion to travel for work and sit in the hotel bar, I look forward to meeting a new "Bill", as I talk to strangers.