Today, I took the bus to the Rideau Centre.

Now, in the sentence above, there are two subtle, devilish mistakes. Can you spot em’?

The first one is “bus”.

Having long harnessed the ability to drive and having obtained a convenient parking pass to my University, it’s been ages since I’ve used the (admittedly awesome) public transportation in Ottawa. Bus? Hah! How pedestrian.

The second one is “Rideau Centre”.

For foreigners, the Rideau Centre is a large(ish) shopping mall located in downtown Ottawa. It’s also a big bus hub. I suppose when you’re a kid and enjoying your first taste of socializing, the Rideau Centre is the place to be.

Being neither a kid, nor having a social life, it’s also been ages since I’ve wandered into that bright deathtrap of teenaged angst.

feeling guilty

Anyways, she turned and caught me staring. Probably with my mouth hanging open, eyes huge like golf balls. And most likely with a shimmery strand of drool rolling down my chin.

So dutifully, I looked away. I imagine I was looking like a bit of a creep.

Anyways, it wasn’t like I was there to socialize. I was a man on a mission. I needed to exchange Canadian dollars to British Pounds.

I was not there to window shop. I was not there to chill. In and out.

Yeah, ’cause that’s how I roll.

So I’m heading down the escalator — my eye on the conversion bank and a giant “Fuck Off” sign on my forehead — and this girl walks by, looks at me, then waves. She’s pretty, dressed stylishly, and seems to know me.

I gave her one of my classic looks.

You know, the confused, pained one.

“I was your student,” she said simply.

“What class?” I asked, still confused and still descending rapidly.

“Linear Algebra,” she said.

Almost out of sight, I nodded knowingly, and waved back.

And that was that. But still, there’s a point here.

The point is, I’m famous, baby!

After that random encounter, I had just about as much excitement as I cared for: I took the bus, I went to a shopping mall, I was even recognized in public. I was in serious need of a nap.

So I’m riding the bus back — sitting at the back — and I spot this girl sitting at the front. And for some inexplicable, incomprehensible reason, I felt this immense attraction towards her. Like nothing I’ve felt before. Well, no, that’s a lie. But still, it was like puppy dog lust.

She had auburn hair. I think it was auburn. It could have been more of a burgundy or a maroon, but let’s not split hairs (haha). I’ve never been good with swatches.

Embarrassing, I know.

She had a terrific set of eyes. Brown? Maybe. I was pretty far away, I can’t say. Unfortunately, her fashion sense was a huge faux pas. She was dressed in black. All black. Leather jacket and black pants. She also had one of those grotesque lip rings. Yeah, horrendous, I know.

And this is coming from a guy whose idea of a fashionable outfit is white t-shirts and jeans.

But man, she was gorgeous, nonetheless.

Anyways, she turned and caught me staring. Probably with my mouth hanging open, eyes huge like golf balls. And most likely with a shimmery strand of drool rolling down my chin.

So dutifully, I looked away. I imagine I was looking like a bit of a creep.

But what an adventure. I should wander outside of academia a bit more often. It’s rather fun.

If any of my readers would like to offer me tips on how to pick up pretty girls on a bus in a non-creepy manner, you know how to reach me.