So, there I was walking down the crowded street, with my hands in my pockets, humming on my favorite tune – like I usually do – when a woman in her early twenties suddenly end up in my path.
Trying not to hit her, I dodge to my left. Unfortunately, she dodges to her right and the impact is inevitable. My left shoulder hits her right shoulder, she trips on the wet pavement and hits it with a splash, her outfit most likely ruined by the water.
Being as polite as possible, considering the situation, I help her up, say “I’m sorry” and prepare for a lesson – although she could have dodged to her left, too, and avioded the whole mess.
‘Thanks’, she says. I’m a little suprised.
‘That’s OK’, I say. ‘It was all my fault’.
‘No, it wasn’t, silly’, she replies and smiles. ‘I was lost in my own thoughts – didn’t see you until it was too late’.
If she didn’t want to blame me, fine by me. It was now about time for a quick exit before she changed her mind.
‘OK, then… I’m sorry anyway, you’re wet and everything. But I have to go now. Bye.’
‘Wait’, she says and grabs my arm just as I’m about to leave. ‘I need to show you something’.
When a women grabs you by the arm and says “wait, I need to show you something” just after you’ve pushed her into a pool of water, one of two things will usually happen:
1. She’s a nymphomaniac, turned on by the wet clothes sticking to her skin and probably wants to fuck you in the first and best alley she can find.
2. She will take you to the first and best alley, but instead of having sex with you, her 6 redneck brothers are waiting there to beat the living shit out of you.
Hoping for solution number one and a possible Forum story, I let her guid me through the crowd – to a booth selling mobile phone.
‘Show me your phone’, she says.
After a second or two, I get the picture – she sells mobile phones from a both. And now, after I’ve tripped her and ruined her outfit (and probably her whole day, or week for that matter, if she starts to blame me), she wants me to buy one of them to compensate.
Hesitatingly, I show her my Nokia 3110 brick and she picks up a Nokia 3330 from the table.
‘What about buying this one instead – it’s cheap, light and suits all your needs. It’s got SMS, WAP…’
Before she gets too excited and I too tired of all the boring details about the phone, I (rudely) interrupt her.
‘Please… Not to ruin your day or anything, but I don’t need a new phone. My 3110 is all I need. It still beeps when someone wants to talk to me and its weight keeps me from being blown away during storms. I’m sorry…’
She tries not act disappointed, but the way her face almost turns inside out says it all. A tear (or possibly just water) trickles down her cheek, and I know I’m fucked.
‘I need to sell these phone’, she says silently.
‘Why don’t I just buy you lunch instead’, I say. Her face brightens up and she smiles back at me.
She closes up her booth and I take her to lunch.
(I should start writing commercials)