Paranoia and other pleasant things

The unexpected guest

There is a certain hour in a day’s time after which when you hear the phone ringing, it means trouble. For our household it’s somewhere around 10 pm.

Yesterday the phone rang a quarter after ten. I wasn’t worried though, because Timi and Robi were at my mom’s so I figured they were calling to let me know the’re coming home. Instead of Robi’s voice or Timi’s tiny shrieks of excitement (if she would be a dog, she’d be a Labrador, methinks) I heard a pleasant male voice that asked me in English (hmm, Dutch accent? German? Lithuanian?!?) if I was Andrea.

Confirming that it was My Royal Highness indeed, he told me that he’s Martin, a Hospitality Club member from Germany (am I good or what?), that he knows it’s late and he didn’t email me earlier, but he’s here in my town with his bike and could we please give him a place on our floor to sleep on? I asked him to phone me again in 5 minutes, called Robi and made a small PR chef d’oeuvre by convincing him to take the guy in. (But he had such a nice voice! So what if it’s 10 PM and he might be a serial killer or carrying the flu! Think about the greater picture! Karma, Robi, karma and freezing puppies in the rain!) Robi being the wonderful husband he is, when Martin phoned for the second time I could tell him he’s welcomed in our house.

Half an hour later while folding clothes in the bedroom I notice a lone biker with an enormous quantity of luggage on the street. “I’m going down to get him, he’s heeere” I shout while I get my slippers. Out of the block I go, tank-topped and midi-skirted. Wow, it’s cold outside. The lone biker is entering the pizzeria under my appartment. I enter after him, gesticulating frantically to the waiter that just offered him the phone to take it back. This not being the first time a backpack-wearing person asks to phone my appartment from there, the waiter obeys while I ask “Martin?” His whole face is enlightened by a lovely smile of relief. (KAWAIIIII! shouts the 16-year old Japanese fangirl which makes her appearance inside my head whenever I look at an Orlando Bloom picture. I kill her in a quick and non-painful fashion and regain my composure.) We go to my appartment where he unloads his two tons of luggage. (Okay, not two tons. Maybe one.)
Long and pleasant chatting follows, he being one of my most interesting guests until now. Working as a driver for a luxury tour bus, he drove for the Chippendales, Alice Cooper, The Tenors and a lot more - and is willing to share stories about everybody. One advice to you international stars - when touring, respect your bus driver’s sleeping hours. Othervise he’ll have plenty of methods to make your resting time miserable. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

He’s going to Bulgaria from here, then Turkey, Iran, India, South East Asia.. I give him a few tips about what to visit in Ro and a couple other countries. We finally decide it would be wise to go to sleep around 1 AM.

He went on his way this morning. After all, he has a year and a half ahead to travel - and a lot of places to see.

Posted under: chestii