I totally forgot my OTHER superpower. No matter where I go, old people are drawn to me to tell me their most intimate, personal stories... or what they had for breakfast. I'll be trying to choose onions from a bin at Walmart and - shazam! - some old man or old lady is suddenly asking me a question, looking for directions, commenting on the produce, or complaining about the lighting. Ol' Boy claims I have a tattoo across my forehead that says, "TALK TO ME!" that only old people can see.
It's my penance for all the people my dad used to waylay for a chat as I was growing up.