I had to travel for business to northern Virginia (outside D.C.), my old stomping grounds. My hotel is right around the corner from a Turkish restaurant I used to frequent years ago, so when a friend and I made plans for dinner last night, that's where we went.
We were just starting to peruse the menu when my friend stage-whispered, "Don't look now, but I think that's Newt Gingrich sitting at the table behind us!" Without wanting to be too obvious, I swiveled my head to see.
Sure enough, it was ol' Newt "Contract on America" Gingrich himself, sitting with presumably wife three, four, or five--I've lost count.
Although he's not so much in the public eye these days, you could see--or should I say hear--that ol' Newt hadn't lost his taste for being the center of attention. Though we were in a room with only six people total--all of the rest of us speaking in normal, polite tones--Newt-boy felt compelled to speak up. JUST IN CASE WE COULDN'T HEAR HIM, ya' understand. Something or other about having the next Speaker of the House in his office; I didn't get all the details because I was trying hard to ignore him.
When he and Wife Three-Four-Five finally got up to leave, the couple at the next table shared sighs of relief with me and my friend. It occurred to me later that anyone so narcissistic that he thought a roomful of diners wanted to hang on his every word might have appreciated being "recognized" by us. Missed my chance, I guess. But I hate hurling insults during dinner, don't you?