This morning, as I nod and attempt to blow past the Customer Service Ambassador, he says;
“Hey, have you ever seen your twin that gets off at Bronte?!!”
I swear, some people will do anything to be graced by my limited attention span.
I tell him: “Nah, I’m an only child.”
He chuckles: “Ya, she looks just like you!”
I tell him: “I’ll keep an eye out for her!”
Of course I won’t. But I want our chit chat to end.
I’m not one for idle chatter, unless I initiate it.
If you’re talking to me and I suddenly walk away, please don’t be offended.
It’s likely because I’m no longer interested in what you have to say.
And, I was taught if I don’t have anything nice to say, that I should blog about it.
Is that the correct expression?
Works for me!
Moving along, I decide I have more pressing matters to attend to than conversing with the help.
Like writing a blog.
I’m half annoyed, half amused that I’m being compared to a commoner that rides the big green chariot.
I consider what it would be like to have a twin.
Having another me out there in the universe.
Would I be the pretty one?
The smart one?
The one everyone calls “the other one” due to lack of personality?
Am I the one with charisma?
I mull this over.
I make a note to look out the window at Bronte just to see if Aidil has left us.
I consider my twin’s potential character.
Would she be the real narcissist?
Is she the sarcastic one?
Is she the funny one?
Is she the one whose actually a good friend? Reliable? Good listener? Thoughtful? Caring?
Does she enjoy teams and people?
Does she like to commute?
Is she better than me?
I’m not enjoying this line of questioning and the subsequent self-deprecation that ensues.
It starts to make me feel uncomfortable.
Even moreso than Tommy Talker barking on the cell phone beside me.
He’s definitely twin B.
Having a twin might not be so bad.
I mull this over.
Together, we could be a super power.
Ying and yang.
Donaldson and Pillar.
Hitler and Mussolini.
Hey, two out of three ain’t bad.
Beisdes, I don’t even know what Ying and Yang means.
As I prepare to exit for my connecting train, an interesting thought occurs to me.
What if our friendly Customer Service Ambassador had his locations mixed up, and that he’s actually seeing me get off the train at Oakville?