Frau 9:46

Some relationships are just strange. One of them started for me about a year ago:

I walked out of my apartment building one Thursday morning to catch the 9:46 bus to work. At least that's the time the public transportation tells us. In truth, well, there is no truth. There's only guessing and waiting: Is that bus going to come or not?

Well, on that morning, 9:46 came and went. At 9:50, I took a seat at the bus stop, figuring I might as well be comfortable while I waited. I then heard a voice from nearby saying, "This is a scandal! No matter when you get here, that bus is late!"

I glanced in the direction of the voice saw that it was emanating from a grandmotherly lady: 65 or so, gray hair, maybe 5'4" tall, and definitely on the chubby side. And I saw that she was talking directly to me.

Generally, I try to avoid contact with other bus riders. I enjoy sitting in silence as I wait for the bus or ride it. It's a very relaxing experience for me.

But just this one time, I made an exception. I figured that somebody's grandmother was not much of a risk.

So I replied, "You're right. With this bus, you never know."

That's all she needed. Suddenly, she started talking -- or, more specifically, complaining -- a mile a minute. She started telling me about all the bad experiences she had had with this and other buses. I didn't need to utter a word. She proved to be someone who could talk endlessly without any verbal response from her listeners.

I was a bit irritated, but I just kept my mouth shut. Fortunately, the bus soon arrived, at 9:56, only 10 minutes late.

When the lady saw the bus coming, she sprang up to get on it, and she finally stopped talking. Even better, she climbed on the bus and ran to get a seat at the front. I went to the back. She did not try to make any contact with me after that. For her, our relationship seemed a closed deal.

Yet, this same scene has been repeating itself throughout the past year, at least every time that I make the mistake of catching the 9:46 bus. That seems to be the lady's official time to get on. As soon as she spots me, she latches onto me and launches into her bus travails. I never (have a chance to) say anything.

And, like the first time, our relationship seems to be over once the bus arrived. The lady shuts up, boards the bus, and runs for a seat at the front. Once on the bus, she avoids any and all contact with me. She simply zips up and shuts up like saying "Well, that's it, buddy. Have a nice ride."

Although I initially found these encounters somewhat strange, I have now come to appreciate them. The relationship between the lady and me has held up remarkably well, and it appears to be in no danger of ending tomorrow.