He Owns NASA

On the way to work yesterday. I'm waiting at the Pioneer Square MAX stop, eastbound, reading Willamette Week. A guy nearby turns to someone and says, "hey, do you figure that clock is right?" I glance over: he's pointing at the big digital clock on the bank across the street.

Someone says something affirmative -- sure, it's right. The guy says, "well, heck, in eleven minutes I'll be 42 years old. Yes sir."

Okay. Ice breaker. Talkative fellow. It's sort of ham-handed, but if you want to strike up a conversation with random people on the street you have to start somewhere. I go back to my WW, and so miss the next couple sentences. Then I hear this:

"Yeah, but I'm a co-owner of NASA."

Silence. Maybe some mumbling. And then the guy is stomping away, right past me, and he raising his voice, a little angry, a little defensive: "Yep! Believe it or not, I own NASA!"