You're on a flight from somewhere to JFK, New York City. You transferred somewhere - Philadelphia perhaps - and on the final leg, you're pleasantly surprised to see that the hope of every single traveling heterosexual human has come true: your seat assignment is next to an attractive human of the opposite sex of roughly the same age.
You chart your course, pick your opening line, and try it out; it seems to be well-received. A conversation ensues. You start with questions as to place of origin, current locale, recent happenings, eventually occupation.
An actor, they say. They reside in Hoboken, a new hipster haven, you realize. Soon you're hearing about the life of a Hoboken hipster actor, a life you know very little, if anything, about. But then the conversation turns to books, which you can speak to a little, even suggest some. It appears you appear interesting to the Hoboken hipster actor.
Then the conversation turns to travel and places they have been. You have been to a few places and even a few of the same. You offer your thoughts on them, and again, it appears you appear interesting.
No details of yourself have been disclosed, so eventually, finally, they inquire. You pause slightly, to consider your answer, and perhaps proudly inject a little drama into the situation. Your answer attempts to summarize why you know about some books and why you've been to some places. You also attempt to impress them with your response, which you know is not the norm. You're sure that it will impress them. You tell them that you work in the fly fishing industry.
They pause, cock their head.
"What's fly fishing?"