Tales of a Busy Busser
The other day, around 5ish I was contemplating the world, sitting or rather jammed into a bus seat.
These were good thoughts because I was particularly kind and smiled encouragingly at all the old ladies, hoons, drunks and youths that make up the entire bus population. Then like a ray of sunshine on a metaphorically grey afternoon, a beautiful young man with lean fingers and a charcoal coat interrupted my self indulgent magnanimousness. (big words! Look it up Bookworm!) Men in charcoal coats are a rarity on my bus, as I live in the absolute sticks.
So I pulled out the old 120 watt smile and practically lit the bus, fluttering the eyelashes ever so slightly. More to draw attention away from the fact I generally look like a homeless bag lady when on public transport, than to appear flirtatious. But in true charcoal coat taste, he declined my furious blinking and sitting in front of me withdrew a book. BOOK! BOOK!
As I said, tasteful clothing is hard to come by, but literature on my bus is a one in a million. Now I was desperate to be recognised as another person of taste, so I tried to strike up a conversation about our common theme. The novel. I glanced at the cover, which I didn't recognise and then sneakily tried to read over his shoulder....never a good first impression, but I was desperate.
So there I was, peering creepily at the book trying hard to catch a key phrase....but none of the words looked familiar. Then after about 2 minutes of intense staring, in which my nose gravitated past this beautiful person's shoulder, the penny dropped.
It was in German.
Abruptly chastened I returned to staring out the window, realising why this beautiful person was so different and intriguing, he wasn't just not from these parts.
He wasn't Australian.
(Which I learned later, as I swallowed my pride and the now obvious language barrier and chatted him up. He was from Munich, which he said was lovely at this time of year.)
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