Thursday, May 15, 2014

Two World Citizen and the Trip to The Big Smoke.


In Brisbane yesterday waiting for the train, we were going back to Sandgate to get the car.


Hubby started to get on a train that said Shorncliffe.  I mentioned it.  He, doing his best impression of a typical husband, ignored me and got on the train.

I, doing my best imitation of a dutiful wife, followed him.  He stopped at a seat, waited for me to take the window seat and sat down.

Then he turned his body to me, blocking me from the aisle, shielding the people beyond from me,and began.

"The trains are labelled with the last stop they make.  Sandgate is the stop before Shorncliffe."

There was a whole lot more to the lesson.  I am sure he only omitted the Power Point presentation and his other visual aids, in respect to the limited room available restricting the flipping of his charts and the fact we were in a "quiet" carriage.  I am omitting the lengthy lesson here in the retelling because I care a great deal about my readers and mind numbing boredom is bad enough the first time round . . . to pass it on exceeds all cruelty limits.

When he was done I waited for him to catch his breath, which he did, just moments before I was going to call out to see if anyone had any spare oxygen tanks with them.

"And what, you felt unable to just quickly say, "yes the Shorncliff train goes through Sandgate," while we were outside and I asked if this was the right train?"

"Yes, I thought I would wait until we were on the train and then I could explain to you how the trains worked."

"And that would be because you were afraid of my ability to process that information and you felt the need to have me contained in a seat so I wouldn't just stampede madly into the crowd of innocent bystanders, unable to deal with my own inept ability to process facts of such magnitude and complexity?"


"Pretty much."

"You are such a humanitarian."

"Most of us Australians are.  We feel a great responsibility to take care of the errant citizens of the world ... especially Canadians."

The "quiet" car got very very quiet.

The vehicle we drove home in was a "no holds barred" carriage . . .  with tinted windows ...

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