Bus Entertainment

No wonder I love riding buses so much. There is more entertainment on a trip into downtown Geneva than any television show.

My father and mother both talked to anyone they passed and the conversations quickly went to a depth that I never knew if I should remember the person or not. More often then not when we walked away and I asked who it was they would say, “Never saw him/her before.” That conversational ability must have been transmitted from both in a DNA strand.

Today my seat mate was a Peruvian Jew who speaks French, English, Hebrew, Yiddish and German. We spoke in French. The conversation went to the worry about his wife who had gone from being sweet and loving to snappy. He wanted me to speak for the all women, something I am not willing to do. The conversation tilted toward our children, my 37-year old daughter and his six-year old son, the values we want(ed) to instill in them. They were identical.

Meanwhile a woman in her sixties got on with a caddy cart and two bichons dressed in identical red rain coats. She took a seat nearest the door and the pups settled down, one at her feet and one in her lap for a nap.

Two stops later a heavy set man, white goatee, longish hair and the type of cap that would look good with knickers for a 1920s country weekend in the UK. He was blind, and she offered him her seat. She was able to get one dog out of the way in time, but not before he tripped on the second. Hands from all over, including the Peruvian I’d been talking to, reached out and grabbed him, saving him before he hit the floor.

“What kind of dog?” the blind man asked not the least bit upset.

She told him and added, “Two.”

He felt down to pat them. “Sweet.”

No one said anything about the rain coats.