We`ve all been there.

When you are a kid, and you yet have to be broken into civilization, when your mind is free and wandering, unaware of the social norms that lie ahead, saying “Thank you” is the last thing on your mind. You express your gratitude in other ways, with the sparkle in your eye, laughter or vocal exclamations. The exact words “Thank you” are usually said first by your parents and you then duly repeat them, just cause they said so. You pick the real meaning behind the words later on and from then on you express your gratitude with a generally known expression. But only when you feel that`s necessary. And never on command. Gratitude comes from within and is your opinion on an outside action/deed.

How`s this for a huge intro, huh?

Anyway, yesterday on my way to Baya, I took the bus. Seeing how buses always play an important role in my way of moving about, it is not miracle that the most “interesting” things happen right there. And so it was, that an old lady sat next to me, spreading about her parfumed scent, mixed with old-people odor, groceries and cigarettes. Ah yes, eau de paradis! She did not ask if the seat was taken, she just went and…you know…did it. Which is fine by me, I am not one of those people hoarding seats and screaming “Mine, all mine!

In the middle of the ride, I lifted my rear-end and pulled my jacket from underneath. I confess, the move was slightly similar to the one where you indicate you want to get off the bus, but you can always tell the i-got-something-up-my-creek from the classic and worldwide known please-could-you-move-a-little-since I-would-like-to-get-off. And the bitch (note how I went from the term “old lady” to the term “bitch” indicating that I suddenly stopped being neutral and would not mind if the bitch would drop dead there and then from a blood cloth or something similar) went beserk. I never saw it coming when she started bitching. “What, you want me to guess you want to get off?? The manners!” and she stood up, giving me space I really did not need. The whole bus was watching so I did what every good boy does and got up, eventhough there was still two stops before I actually went off the bus. She sat back, mumbling “You could at least thank me for giving you space!” (pa vsaj hvala bi reku, k sm se ti umaknila!) And then I kind of lost it. First she practically chases me off my seat and now I have to say thank you? For what exactly?

Short intermission.

Old people are bad of hearing. Words scramble, sounds sound different. In every language there are words that sound exactly the same but mean a completely different thing. They are called homophones.

End of intermission.

Since I did not want to leave a bad impression, I turned to her and said (you can always use this line when you`ll find yourself in a similar situation): “Thank you for being so rotten!” (Hvala, k si tok gnila).

The guy standing next to me almost choked on his gum. But she nodded, as if I really thanked her and so we parted our ways. Stupid cunt.

Post scriptum:

for english-only readers note that in slovene language the words “umaknila” and “gnila” have the same ending, therefor, they sound almost the same. Sometimes it comes in handy.

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