Mistakes and the Police (Unrelated Topics, Mind You)

I would like to tell you a story. A story about getting lost on a bus line with which I should be familiar by now, and the repercussions of being a small, flustered ball of Jen. The characters: said flustered ball of Jen, marathon runners, and a middle-aged Russian bus driver.

The police belong to another story.


Lost

Yesterday, I had been invited to Maryle's place for lunch, tea, and some tweaking on our spring break travel plans (as our break starts Thursday). The buses don't run regularly on Sundays, but there are four times when they actually do. So, I took the first bus that drove to the Schloss, where I needed to switch buses in order to make it over to Maryle's neighborhood. Sounds elementary, right?

I didn't know about the marathon runners.

Because of the runners, whose path went around the Schloss, the usual bus rendezvous point had been blocked off, thus causing the buses to meet in another location: behind the Schloss. I was a little puzzled, but I wasn't worried; I simply asked the bus driver for line 5 if this was the bus that stopped at Eilensteg. I was told, "Yes." So, I boarded the bus, waiting for the time of departure.

As soon as we did start off, I knew I was going in the wrong direction. Bloody hell, I have no idea why this happens to me. Or why I let it happen.

Anyway, I walked up to the driver during the route, and made it clear that I had thought that this bus went to Eilensteg. Realizing the mistake, the driver told me to wait until the last stop, and we'd figure something out. This is when the flustered ball of Jen comes into play. It was just added stress to the already-high mountain of nerves I've had, lately.

So, what happened? I was treated to coffee and cake by a Russian bus driver during his half-hour break. One of the most awkward things that has happened during my stay here? Maybe. Why? Well, being told that I'm pretty is nice, along with how dark my eyes are, but considering the situation at hand... Yes, it makes for interesting stories later, but it remains an awkward situation. Other than that, though, we had a decent conversation, ranging from why I'm here to why he moved to Germany.

I was just glad when I did finally make it to Maryle's flat. And the pasta was sehr lecker.

Though the situation made me feel like an idiot and influenced the rest of my day, I do have a new-found appreciation for walking. Anywhere.


Another Story Regarding the Police

Ambiguous grammar makes titles funny.

I had forgotten to write about this particular anecdote in my previous blog posts, so it seems fitting that I add another strange story to this one. One night, while talking to one of my good friends back in Huntsville, I heard a knock at my door. I excused myself from the chat and cautiously looked down my stairs to see who it was. My visitor must have seen me, as he jovially shouted, "Keine Sorgen! Polizei!"

If you are a police officer, of course I'm going to worry.

I hurried to the door and opened it, wondering which crime they had finally charged me for. But, the officer just asked me if I had seen anything suspicious in the street from 6:00-10:00, and when I replied in the negative, he handed me a leaflet about the neighborhood watch and went on his way.

This would have been a lot less strange had he not stopped by at 10:40PM.

My life. What is it.