I remember it well.
I was in Duncan, Arizona, and there was this guy who kept talking and talking and talking while in the parking lot of a convenience store. He fit the definition of a conversational predator.
I kept giving him all the cues that I was done talking to him, and I swear, it almost seemed like he kept running his mouth with the intent of getting on my nerves. For a few seconds, I felt tempted to punch him in the face, but I walked away while he was still talking. It seemed rude, but I did what I had to do. Crisis averted.