Tarzan & Jane

I was waiting at the bus stop one morning when I saw this guy from far off. He was a big man..hunkering is the word I would use. Think Hagrid from Harry Potter, complete with long messy beard and shaggy eyebrows. He was wearing a tie dyed t-shirt, was sporting a backpack and guzzling easily out of a 1 litre Coke bottle like it was a 250ml mineral water bottle.

I have had my own fair share of weird encounters with strangers, most of them at bus stops and on buses but this one ranks in the top 3. Of course he sits next to me and remembering my mother’s cardinal rule, when he said hello, I squinted nervously into the sun and ignored him hoping he would notice my earphones and leave it at that. Obviously not as he tried again.

“Hey.”

I was contemplating ignoring him again when I realised that there were not very many people around and if he had gotten mad at me and thrown his Coke at me (or something equally bad) there wouldn’t be anyone to “rescue” me. Nor would there be any witnesses. So I boldly mustered up a “Hi,” and resumed staring back into the sun. Our good Coke guzzling friend refused to be fazed by the short girl with the iPod stuck in her ears who was trying so hard to ignore him.

“Are you happy this morning?”

Omg, it was turning into an interview of Flower Power variety. However it seemed harmless enough and so I answered, “Yeah I guess.”

Big smiles. “Why?”

“Just…because it’s a new day.” I swallowed before I could continue by saying ”I feel lucky to be alive” thinking that even he had limits when it came to corny conversation.

“Wow, yeah that’s awesome, so what’s your name?” Now this was where the bells went off in my head because although I had broken mama’s cardinal Don’t talk to strangers rule, this one was an even bigger no-no. You never tell a stranger your name. So I told him instead… “Jane.”

Well my reasoning was, if you had to tell him a name, at least don’t tell him your real name. He leans forward slightly and I think, oh shit, he’s caught on to me. “Jean or Jane?”

“Jane,” I confirmed resolutely. He nodded and I thought, okay, he bought it. And then he continued, as normal as anything, “I’m Tarzan.”

Now the bells were ringing madly. But what else could I say except, “Hi Tarzan.”

He smiled again. “Wow. You don’t look Australian, (no shit Sherlock), what heritage are you?”

To which I answered, “I’m Indian.”

To which his reply was, “Wow, no wonder you’re happy.”

And then when it seemed like it couldn’t get weirder, it did.

“You look like my wife.”

Hello?? Enter the Twilight Zone.

This time I had looked past him for the fiftieth time looking for my bus which finally, thank goodness, I could see in the horizon. The bus stop was also filling up with other people so I felt confident enough to say, “Well that’s my bus,” and restrained myself from seeming too happy.

The second I jumped on the bus (which was marginally empty) I sat next to the only elderly woman in the bus and she gave me a look like, wtf, the bus is empty and you’re choosing to sit next to the only passenger here. I didn’t care – I just didn’t want Tarzan and his Terrible Questions sitting next to me grilling me about where my ancestors came from and why I looked like his wife.

When you have the time I will tell you about the time I met these two smashed guys at the bus stop who asked me three times before I realised they weren’t asking for five dollars  but high fives. Obviously I previously taught they were robbing me and so I quite happily high fived them.

Fear gives some people wings. They paralyse others and makes yet others pathological liars. I seem to fall into this last category most of the time.