I had three opportunities to snag a choice seat on the subway this morning but I held out until the third-last stop of my trip.
At one point, a petite lady in a trench coat and I did that, “No, you take it,” gesture back and forth until she finally relented and sat down.
Just in time, too. The man beside her looked about to dive onto it, probably thinking, “If neither of you bozos are going to grab it, I will.”
I also tried to be more friendly with salespeople today. Borderline bantering, in fact. Small talk with sales clerks may be easy, shmeasy for you, but I’m usually more of a “pay first, ask no questions later” kind of customer. Maybe I got lucky with my banterees, but it turned out to be a pleasant experience all around.
So in lieu of any grand-gesture good deeds to report, I will share an interesting incident that took place this afternoon.
You may remember a few posts ago, I wrote about how strange it felt to have strangers smile at me on the subway even though I’d been trying to do the same thing in my neighbourhood a week earlier.
Well, today it got even stranger.
I was walking along at 5 p.m., minding my own business on a downtown street — lost in my own thoughts, as usual — when I heard a man’s deep voice declare, “I love you!” before he rushed by me.
I spun around to see who it was but the sidewalk was a sea of suits.
I stopped and tried to remember what had just happened and to reconstruct the events in my head. I decided it wasn’t the voice of God (no harps in the background) and not my imagination (Clive Owen hadn’t said it). It was some random tall guy in a business suit. Gee, that narrows it down, I thought.
As I stood there, a very chatty guy sauntered by. He was alone. I almost laughed out loud. (You’ve probably guessed by now what must have happened.)
Much like this sauntering guy, the man who declared his undying love was probably talking on his Bluetooth earpiece cell phone, as well.
Wonder what he would have done if I had yelled back, “I love you too!”?