Describe a time when someone talked about something you were not interested in but you kept listening

I'd like to talk about a train journey last Tet, when a complete stranger talked to me about songbirds for the best part of three hours. I was travelling from Saigon up to Quy Nhon to visit my grandparents, and I'd planned to spend it sleeping and watching a series I'd downloaded. The seat next to mine was taken by a man of about seventy, carrying, of all things, a small bamboo cage covered with a cloth. Not long after we set off he lifted the cloth to check on the bird, I made the mistake of saying it was pretty, and that was that. He explained that it was a red-whiskered bulbul, that he owned eleven of them, and that he took them to a singing contest at a cafe every Sunday morning. I then learned how to judge a bird by the shape of its crest, what to feed it before a competition, and why his neighbour's bird, apparently, was a cheat. I have no interest in birds whatsoever. But I kept listening, and not only out of politeness. For one thing, he was so happy. His whole face lit up, and at one point he said, 'My wife says I love the birds more than her, and I tell her the birds don't shout at me.' For another, he mentioned that his children all lived abroad, and I got the feeling that he didn't often have an audience. So I nodded, asked the odd question, and never did watch my series. Strangely, I don't regret it, although I still couldn't tell you a good bulbul from a bad one.