Now I Get Passes Without Beverages Attached to Them
On the bus. I pass through the university, and a slightly familiar face gets on board. No name connected to it; I might have had one conversation with the guy, but don’t ask me what we talked about. He greets me warmly, then sits down in front of me.
“I almost didn’t recognize you with the hat and the scarf.”
I feel slightly bewildered. “Well, I’m glad you did?”
He doesn’t hear the question mark, or he ignores it. “Because, you know, girl’s hair is everything to a guy. As far as recognition goes.”
“Ah.” I feel really glad my hair is in a braid, so as not to start the “Wow-your-hair-is-gorgeous-how-long-is-it” conversation. But I decide to humor the guy. I flip my braid around to the front. “There. Well, then, how did you recognize me?”
“Well, you’re beautiful.” As if that explains everything.
“Aw, gee. Thanks.”
He starts singing; I can’t recognize any sort of tune. “Dang it, now he’s singing.”
“No, only my husband’s allowed to sing at me.”
His grin goes away, and he stares. He says something disorienting, like, “Oh. Is your husband being good, then?” I think he meant to ask whether he has a good singing voice, but I oould tell he just felt awkward. So I laugh in his general direction.
My stop cuts through his awkward silence. He gives me a silent high-five, and I tell him I’ll see him later. I win this one.