the Spider and the Fly

My mom told me a story once about how when she was travelling through Europe, she ran into this guy (I believe it was even in France, perhaps Paris) who tried to convince her to go somewhere with him. I can’t remember the particulars (and Mom, you are more than welcome to add any details in the comments, or shoot me an email), but she always said it was her “Spider and the Fly” experience.

For those of you who do not know what “The Spider and the Fly” is, here is a link to the poem by Mary Howitt (there is also a really cool book illustrated by Tony DeTerlizzi).

Anyway, after reading that poem and listening to that story I thought it would be really scary to be in that kind of situation. Now I know that it isn’t scary—its really awkward.

So here’s what happened. I was riding the train to school when I saw this guy in a pink shirt with a ginormous nose. For those of you who have seen that MASH episode where Hawkeye performs plastic surgery on the guy with the big nose, that’s how big I’m talking. And for those of you who are more cultured, think Cyrano de Bergerac. Anyway, I went back to the suburbs after class, and when I was on my way back to the city, I saw him again!

I recognized him almost immediately, but it took me a second to remember where I had seen him before. So when I did remember I looked up to find him staring at me. I thought he was going through the same mental process he was (where do I know this person from?), so I gave him a little smile and quickly looked away. Bad idea. Do not smile at French men. Period. It makes them think that they can get up from their seat, cross over two people and an aisle to sit in front of you to talk to you. Which, by the way, is not okay.

So, to make a long story longer, this guy was incapable of talking above a whisper, which was bad news for me because 1) he was speaking in French, which is already somewhat difficult for me to understand; 2) I have a hard time hearing anything anyway, and 3) there was a lot of background noise from the running train that would have made it hard to understand someone speaking English at a normal decibel. Our conversation (which lasted about 10 minutes, or what felt like an eternity) went something like this:
Him: You are very beautiful.
Me: What?
Him: You are very beautiful.
Me: Oh, uh…okay. Thank you?
Him: Could I have a little of your time? Could I take you to get a drink?
Me: What?
Him: I would like to have just a little of your time to get you a drink of coffee.
Me: What?
Him: Some of your time? Some coffee?
Me: Oh! Um…no….
Him: Why not?
Me: ….I don’t drink coffee…
Him: Boff! We could get something else. You are not French? (I wonder what clued him in…:)
Me: uh, no. I’m an American.
Him: Oh, what are you doing in France?
Me: What?
Him: What are you doing in France?
Me: Oh. I’m studying French.
Him: You are very beautiful.
Me: Uh…..
Him: What is your name?
Me: Uh…. Sarah.
Him: Oh, Sarah, it’s a very common name.
Me, thinking: duh, if I had an unusual name I probably would have told you Sarah anyway, simply because it is so common (which is exactly what you’re thinking right now).
Him: Why don’t you want to get a coffee with me?
Me: Because I don’t trust you.
Him: What can I do to make you trust me?
Me: Nothing.

The conversation went on, with more ‘what’s, ‘what can I do to get you to trust me’s and ‘nothing’s, but I can tell that half of my audience is already asleep, so suffice it to say that I felt extremely awkward. Also, as I got off the train I kept looking over my shoulder to make sure he wasn’t following me. However, now I can say that I have experienced “The Spider and the Fly”!