Found: French dog*.
I am sitting on the metro, ready for my thirty minute ride on the way home from French class (ugh). I always sit in the same seat on the second level with no neighbors**; I like to zone out on the tram and frankly I just don’t like being smushed up next questionable strangers, there, I said it. About fifteen minutes into my ride an elderly gentleman sits down at the one-seater across from me.
He is all smiles and I can feel his eyes boring into me. Keep looking out the window! Don’t make eye contact! I have the same feeling I have when I have just sat on the airplane with a book and I see an overly happy person walking towards the empty seat next to me. My Southerness (http://breadispain.wordpress.com/2012/09/27/have-a-bless-ed-day-and-others-things-dogs-say/) won’t allow me to ignore a potential conversation so I must concentrate hard on something else if I’m going to avoid talking.
The tram starts up again and I continue to ponder the window pane in fascination. Then I slip and look at the time on my IPod.
He jumps, nay leaps, at the opportunity and immediately tells me my IPod looks like a wrist watch because of the case I have it in (that’s right, I still use my arm band workout case even when I’m not working out – what if I get the sudden urge to workout, one must always be prepared). I smile nicely and laugh “tehehehehehehe”, yes, yes we are all polite, now I am going to go back to staring out the window because there are a lot of tram stops left and while I would normally embrace stranger conversations, I have just left four hours of French class and my head is swimming; there is no way I can sustain a chat in French right now.
A minute or so passes.
“Vous etes etranger?” He is smiling at me expectantly.
Le sigh. I surrender and take off my IPod completely.
“Oui, je suis Americaine,” I smile back encouraging him (damn you upbringing!).
“Ah! Americaine! Tres bien!”
He continues on, chatting amicably. I tell him that I am learning French but am not very good, he tells me (in English) that he knows some English but is not very good. We chat a bit about French class and the difficulties of learning other languages. Finally he stands up to get off at his stop.
“Eet eez verwy nice to mit yew,” He says patting my hand as he descends.
“Enchante,” I say. “Bonne journee, monsieur!”
“Arrivaderchi,” he laughs. “Italian!” He is so pleased with himself.
“Ciao,” I respond playing along.
He laughs again, “ciao ciao!”
Then he is gone, as the tram pulls out I get a last glimpse of him merrily running across the tram tracks to cross the street. Spritely old fellow.
As my tram ride continues it occurs to me that I have just met a French dog. I think back over the past month or so and realize that lately I have been meeting a lot of French dogs. What has caused this change? Has France read my blog and decide to be chattier? Somehow I doubt it. Instead, I think that it is because, due to my French class, I am now on the same schedule as the old-timers and old-timers don’t have the social hang ups of young people; if they want to chat, they are going to chat. Maybe they aren’t dogs, but rather they are chatty “chats”! (I slay me)
It reminds me of when I used to work reception at a government office and people would call to complain about various things; often after the complaint was made the old-timers would just want to talk and have a conversation. Getting older can’t be easy; the world that you knew for most of your life is gone, society changes, rules change, people you know pass out of your life. So whether you are a Cat or a Dog, don’t shut down when you run into a smiling elderly person on the tram or at the grocery store, give them a chat, a moment of your time; if you are lucky, someone will return the favor to you one day.
* Point of reference: http://breadispain.wordpress.com/2011/08/24/the-truth-about-cats-and-dogs/
**That’s right; I’m that guy, the person who has my favorite tram seat. Maybe when I am an old-timer instead of being nice and friendly I will freak out and rap my cane against the arm rest if someone else sits in it.