Shit happens. And when it does, it happens right on your head. Ah, pigeons! I had to spend the evening with pigeon shit all over my hair/shirt/handbag. I think it happened because it was the first time in ages I went into town by bus.
Every bus ride is an adventure in Trieste. This time it went well overall. It's a shame that on the way back the driver stopped right in front of a pole. As I tried to get off the bus I almost fell off my wheelchair because of course I was trying hard no to crush into the pole. A girl came over to help me but there just wasn't enough room. Finally, an Indian guy came to give us a hand and between the three of us we somehow managed to put the wheelchair back on solid ground. I thanked my helpers with a smile and kept rolling.
I was sweaty, dirty and slightly annoyed at Italian drivers. As I get to a crossroads, I hear someone say to me: "Hey, you there. I waiting for you. You very nice." There he was, my helper, who kept going: "You very nice. When you go town, you call me I come and I help you. You go wherever, I help you. You really very nice."
Now, isn't that what every woman wants? To be told that she's nice even if she's got bird poo all over her hair and she is sweating like a rhino? I wasn't moved by the fact that he told me I was nice. I knew for a fact that I wasn't and really didn't care. What really upset me was that he clearly wasn't flirting, he was just lonely and wanted to make friends and learn Italian ("What is now? Buona sera or buona notte?" he asked me). I happened to be the only one who smiled at him on that bus. When he asked me for my phone number I was taken aback and gave it to him (what a silly thing to do!). He said: "Thank you, I am Sony, I'll call you dopo."
I really hope that my Prince Charming from the East who rides buses instead of white horses finds more people who will smile at him in this crazy town. As for me, I'd better go take a shower.
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