Yesterday, Jo was working from home in order to attend the visiting plumber, and thus I had to take the train home on my own.
In typical fashion the train was late and the platform was congested with people in a rush. The doors opened and we all rushed in, racing for a seat. It was one of the new trains, the type that has some rows of two seats on each side without opposite facing chairs on the other side, but the guy with the Kippa ahead of me got to the last of those first.
I had to settle for a two opposite two seat. I sat next to this young lady that was all dressed up in fashionable stuff and was reading the MX magazine (the free daily magazine you get at the train station). Opposite me sat this old lady, and next to her there was this dude with a book stuck to his nose (a very short range reader).
I opened my Dutch-orange Crumpler bag to unleash the Asimov's Science Fiction magazine I bought from Borders in an attempt to try and revive old days and start flicking to the page I was on before, when that fashion conscious chick next to me looked at me - and then got up from her seat and went to stand next to the door.
At first I didn't think anything was wrong. I thought she just got up for something and intended to get back to her seat. But she had no such intention - she just stood there, next to the door, still reading her MX magazine. But no one gets up from a seat when they still want to read unless there's a very good reason to do so, and that reason just had to be me! It wasn't like we got to her station or anything - the train was yet to leave Flinders Street Station!
I looked at the empty seat next to me, trying to find a clue. I looked at the chick with the magazine. I looked at my bench companions, and the old lady just looked at me with a smile that said "I agree, what a weirdo". But alas, I couldn't help but feel there was something wrong with me that made her get up.
I scanned myself all over and couldn't find anything wrong. I tried to smell my coat and even my pants to see if something evil caught onto them, but could detect nothing. I was puzzled.
At home I asked Jo if I smell but she said I don't. I don't know, she's biased, and besides - she's used to my stench by now.
I can't stop thinking what was wrong with me, what made that young lady get away from me. It's quite annoying, "knowing" there's something wrong with you but not knowing exactly what...