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When I heard someone call out for a guy named Conway, I joked with the person next to me that I’d only ever heard that used as a first name with Conway Twitty. The guy replied, “Oh, I thought it was a common name, like Tim Conway.”

I talked with Conway, an older black gent, and found him to be one of the most interesting people I’d met in years. He was a retired police psychologist, and we talked about many of the cases in the news. He talked about some officers that he worked with and about the times he accompanied officers to the homes where it was suspected the residents had gone off the deep end. One time they heard a gun being loaded as they knocked on the front door, looked at each other, and quietly walked away without doing anything. He said, “It wasn’t worth it. We figured we’d come back if he did anything crazy to himself or his neighbors. But why should we be shot for knocking on his door?”

He told me some interesting stories about his time in the newspaper business. And I found out he played guitar and loved movies. Once I got him talking about sci-fi flicks, there was no stopping him.

Conway and I were periodically interrupted. One time it was to inform us that a woman had shown up at the party. (There ended up being two women there, actually, but one was Tom’s roommate.) Other times, someone would say something so insane that Conway and I would look at each other dumbfounded. And as the person would walk away, we’d bust out laughing.

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