“You know what I’m excited for?” Adele speaks up through her scarf as we wait for the bus one day. “When we go back home and we actually run into someone we know on the street.”
I ponder this and grin. She has a point. Every day we see a lot of faces; a blur of dark-haired strangers.
Running into someone familiar at the grocery store will be strange. At this time, the chance of us even recognizing someone in this city is about 50 in a Million, multiplied by whatever crazy statistics are involved in timings and locations of the everyday lives of UB citizens.
We figure that the first person to recognize someone out on the street should win some sort of prize. Then we promptly forget about the conversation.
——-Now Fast forward 2.5 months.——-
The morning commuters probably shake their head at the gadad (foreigner) running across the street, clearly heading for the bus half pulled away. Well, she makes it! So let them look!
This was the third bus misadventure in a week. She had been determined not to be ‘bus-ted’ again, but apparently bus #3 and trolley #3 have remarkably different destinations. Oops. Well, now we all know. Busses-3, Anna-0.
She was thankful she remembered overhearing her language teacher mention once that 17 was the bus she took to school, because that was the bus the girl spied across the street after disembarking the duplicitous #3.
That was when she started running.
The bright blue coat amongst the greys and blacks plus the obviously-new shoulder bag do not help the tourist image. It’s a good thing she gave up blending in a long time ago.
Catching her breath and a handhold, she settles in for the ride.
That is, until she hears -what’s that? The familiar voice of her language teacher a few seats up? And she smiles as she realizes how nice it is to find familiarity in the million faces around. Maybe 17 isn’t such a bad bus after all.
Plus, this probably this means she gets a prize, right? : )