Ever wonder why, at the most unexpected times, a new acquaintance (more on the 'stranger' side than 'friend' side of the spectrum) downloads their life story, with a focus on their dirty laundry, to you at your first (or second) meeting?
Every once in awhile I'm shocked by such blatant confessions. No privacy screen, no filter, just me facing them, listening. Isn't there a better ear than mine? What am I supposed to do with this information? Granted in some ways a blog is just that, but at least there are only a finite number of people who know my identity - and I'm not dumping all my crap out ... at least not all at once.
For a handful of years I traveled to Europe for work on a regular basis. The most bizarre episode of TMI (too much information) occured in Belgium. Within hours of arriving, having just dropped my luggage off at the hotel and conducting business for a few hours, my vendor unloaded her baggage, over lunch. Mussels, fries, a Belgian beer - and her secrets - were served up. Mind you I'd never met her before, hadn't even communicated with her beforehand - just her boss. I can't so much remember the details of the lunch confession so much as my feeling of jet lag mixed with mental indigestion. Why do you feel compelled to impart this knowledge? Do I seem fairly anonymous, safe, discreet? Is it simply the right place/time to unload, maybe in some parallel universe? Am I wearing an invisible habit, a priest's collar?
These revelations, along with the city's most photographed statue, Mannekin Pis kept my head spinning for a few days. There were other strange experiences while in Belgium - from dining with a man who whistles when he talks (because of the spaces between his teeth), to the tour guide who drove an Alfa Romeo (who knew?), to my first lunch which kicked off the quirkiness.
There have been others - like the dental hygienist who spilled the ugly parts of her life while cleaning my teeth - but that's another post.
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