the Man from Oklahoma

[electricland]

i was going to go straight to bed, but...

Missed the bus. Walked over to St Denis on the off chance it was late. It wasn't. Got 2 all-dressed steamed hot dogs* at Lafleur (if memory serves this is the 3rd such meal this week, that can't be good for me) and ate them while reading Lonely Planet. Walked back down to Sherbrooke just in time to catch the next bus (phew). Continued reading Lonely Planet and therefore went right past my stop, fortunately the bus turns right to go up Decarie 2 stops later and I noticed that. Then remembered it was a good thing because I had to move my car if I wanted to avoid my second ticket in as many weeks. Anyway...

...steps from my front door I am stopped by a burly, compact, bald gentleman who's just parked his truck and wants to know how to get to the Champlain Bridge. I have a little trouble figuring this out because he has a broad accent and talks extremely fast and it is midnight and I am in my usual walking-around daze. But the Champlain Bridge is something I actually do know how to find. So.

That way, I say, pointing, they're doing construction, but follow the signs for the 15 Sud and that will take you right to the Champlain Bridge.

Oh, he says, are you from Montreal?

Well, I live here...

But you're not from here? Where are you from originally?

Toronto.

Oh, where's that? Is that a suburb of Montreal?

Um, no, it's the largest city in Canada actually... it's in Ontario...

Gosh, I'm sorry.

Hey that's OK, I say, it's kind of good you haven't heard of it, that's where the SARS outbreak is...

We continue. In the course of the conversation I learn:

• That he is from Oklahoma.


• That Montreal is the most glamorous city in the world and its people are the best dressed in North America. (Since I'm wearing my black Gap stretch pants and my Bravo Les Filles net T-shirt and my leather jacket, I am willing to take some part in this.)


• But we need to work on our hospitality. People aren't very friendly, they don't just strike up conversations.


• That he works in law enforcement and is here with 5 other Americans (where? where are they? I have no idea) teaching (something underwater, my Oklahomish had a breakdown at that point).


• That I don't look 29, no way, he'd have guessed 21 or 22, I must get that a lot, do I? 29? No way.


• That he wants to know how to get to the Champlain Bridge.


• That his folks don't believe him when he tells them what a lot of snow we get here.


• That he's going to be in town for five months and he'd really like someone to go around and take pictures of/with (? problems with light-speed Oklahomish again) but only if I'm comfortable with that, it's very important that the woman be comfortable and he has the utmost respect...

Um, I say, I'm really NOT comfortable with that, but thanks, I'm sure you'll find someone else...

I understand, he says, backing away. No offense meant.

Have a safe trip, I say, just go that way, turn left and follow the signs for the 15.

Then I walk the 6 steps to my door and open it. He asks me the way to the Champlain Bridge again.

*note to non-Montrealers and the uninitiated: steamies are the fast food of the gods. trust me.

Comments

[electricland.livejournal.com]

Well, true enough, and thanks. I find I don't always have good stranger radar; my social skills are awkward enough with people I DO know. On the plus side, I do live on a major street (sparsely populated even at midnight, a couple of bars around, etc.) and I have good neighbours. And rightly or wrongly (probably the latter) I think of myself as fairly invulnerable, mostly because I'm tall.

(On the minus side, a woman was attacked a couple of blocks away from my apartment a couple of years ago and left in a coma for several hours in a parking lot. But I try not to hang out at the metro after dark.)

It did give me pause, I have to admit. If it hadn't been RIGHT outside my apartment I'd probably have kept going.