The Smellz Man *or* A bit of last night
On the train from Vienna to Salzburg 2 weeks ago there was a detail that I did not previously relate. There was a man on the trian who, everz 5 minutes or so would shuffle to the car's cubice washroom. He was not an old man, in fact he closelz resembled mz mental image of Mr. Clean (because who does NOT have a mental image of M. Clean?)
Anzwaz, there were large bunches of kids on the plane, and everz single time, as the man shuffled past, his pants dropped to reveal his pastz plump buttocks. Every time. The kiddies loved it. To make the ride even more pleasant, everz time that the man returned to his seat his crotch would be stained with whatever substance was causing him such discomfort. There was no first class on the trian, and I had paid for my reserved seat. If I were to change cars I would have to sit on the floor.
So, I waited out the ride (hopping from car to car in search of another washroom when I had to go) and, once in Salzburg I promptlz forgot about the man. Two Salzburg weeks passed, and last night 1 a.m. I was waiting for my 2:18 a.m. train in the crowded but unusually silent passenger room. The night was cold and the small space - the ONLZ place in the station protected from the frosty night - was packed with tired strangers, grateful for an escape from the cold.
I pondered the sociological nature of the silence in the waiting room - was waiting and not talking an Austrian tradition? Most of the travelers were from elsewhere in the world...were they simply following the lead of a shz early arrival in the waiting room? Suddenly three noises cut through the thick air:
A burp followed by a bubbling fart amnd mz moan of "No. Oh, NO!" when I turned toward the sound.It was THAT MAN.
Mz train was called and the man shuffled past, and my poor tired ezes were further turtured mz the sight of his flabby pink buttocks. I knew that bum. it WAS the man! There was no doubt. I may be bad with faces, but those cheeks were unmistakable.
The train was a split train. Half of it was promptly detached and sent on to Zagreb, while the other half waited for 45 minutes and then continued to Budapest. By the time I found the correct car I was feeling more than a little harried. As I swung myself into the second class passenger car the door of the washroom swung open. How had he beat me to it? Was there no escaping the SMELLY man??
I eeked aloud and practically pulled the innocent man behind me into the next car to safety.
Why? WHY? Of all the people to meet again... ew!
Anzwaz, there were large bunches of kids on the plane, and everz single time, as the man shuffled past, his pants dropped to reveal his pastz plump buttocks. Every time. The kiddies loved it. To make the ride even more pleasant, everz time that the man returned to his seat his crotch would be stained with whatever substance was causing him such discomfort. There was no first class on the trian, and I had paid for my reserved seat. If I were to change cars I would have to sit on the floor.
So, I waited out the ride (hopping from car to car in search of another washroom when I had to go) and, once in Salzburg I promptlz forgot about the man. Two Salzburg weeks passed, and last night 1 a.m. I was waiting for my 2:18 a.m. train in the crowded but unusually silent passenger room. The night was cold and the small space - the ONLZ place in the station protected from the frosty night - was packed with tired strangers, grateful for an escape from the cold.
I pondered the sociological nature of the silence in the waiting room - was waiting and not talking an Austrian tradition? Most of the travelers were from elsewhere in the world...were they simply following the lead of a shz early arrival in the waiting room? Suddenly three noises cut through the thick air:
A burp followed by a bubbling fart amnd mz moan of "No. Oh, NO!" when I turned toward the sound.It was THAT MAN.
Mz train was called and the man shuffled past, and my poor tired ezes were further turtured mz the sight of his flabby pink buttocks. I knew that bum. it WAS the man! There was no doubt. I may be bad with faces, but those cheeks were unmistakable.
The train was a split train. Half of it was promptly detached and sent on to Zagreb, while the other half waited for 45 minutes and then continued to Budapest. By the time I found the correct car I was feeling more than a little harried. As I swung myself into the second class passenger car the door of the washroom swung open. How had he beat me to it? Was there no escaping the SMELLY man??
I eeked aloud and practically pulled the innocent man behind me into the next car to safety.
Why? WHY? Of all the people to meet again... ew!
posted by Melamondiale @ 10:47 AM
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