Train encounters

ex – ot – ic / Pronunciation[ig-zot-ik]


  1. of foreign origin or character; not native; introduced from abroad, but not fully naturalized or acclimatized: exotic foods; exotic plants.
  2. strikingly unusual or strange in effect or appearance: an exotic hairstyle.
  3. of a uniquely new or experimental nature: exotic weapons.
  4. of, pertaining to, or involving stripteasing: the exotic clubs where strippers are featured.

something that is exotic: The flower show included several tropical exotics with showy blooms. Unabridged (v 1.0.1)
Based on the Random House Unabridged Dictionary, © Random House, Inc. 2006.

There I was, sitting quietly in the speed train at Ostbanhhoff (Munich east) station before it moves to my destination station to the south east. Usually, at Ostbahnhoff, the trains wait a bit longer before continuing ahead. I kept my nose buried in my book and looked up for a quick moment and noticed a short-haired, business-suited young gentleman looking at me rather intently. We made eye contact . He smiled. I smiled a little smile back. Suddenly, he hurried into the train and sat down across from where I was sitting.

“Hi,” he says.
I smile and nod.
“You’re staying at the Karl Theodor hotel, arent you?” he asks.
I just look at him, still looking polite, but not really keen on giving him the information.
“I stay there too, I’m Andreas,” he holds out his hand.
“Well, nice to meet you, Andreas.” I shake his hand.
“I’ve seen you a few times at the lobby but I didnt have a chance to say hello” he smiles again.

The train starts to move.

“Well it’s a surprise to meet you here, then” I tell him.
“Are you here for work?” He asks.
I nod. “And you?” I ask him back.
He nods back to me. We nod a lot.
“I’ll be here for a month and a half,” he tells me. I nod again.
“Almost the same as me – about a month” I tell him.

The train arrives at St. Martin Strasse halt – my destionation. I gather my bag and stand up. He stands up too. The doors open and we step out together.

Before I go down the staircase to exit the station, he gives me his name card and writes his room number at the back. I take it and return his smile. Ya – we nod and smile a lot in the 8-minute train ride.

“Will you call me when you’re free one of these evenings? If you like, I’d like to invite you for a drink,” he asks me.
I nod and smile. “Maybe this evening or tomorrow?” I ask him.
His smile got wider. “That sounds super,” he says the word super the way Germans do, making the ‘s’ sound like a ‘z’.
“You have a good day today,” he tells me. He gives me a short wave.
I nod again. I begin to feel like one of those bobbing-head dolls you I see stuck on car dashboards.
“I’ve got to catch the train back to Ostbahnhoff now to go to the opposite direction.” He tells me.
I had to laugh at that.
“Thanks for keeping me company then,” I tell him.
“Thanks for letting me!” He starts to laugh too.

I still hear his chuckles as I start walking down the stairs.

I smiled all the way to the office. He does have a nice smile. Then I remembered something.

I never told him my name.

Guess I’ll have to call him this evening after work then, won’t I?

Funny how these encounters never happen to me back home… maybe I’m not exotic enough in my homeland, neh? 🙂


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