I am sitting on one of the black iron benches in the centre of the departure hall. It’s a wonderful place. I sit in view of the big blue arrival schedule. Many people stand in the space between me and the board, trying to find their train departure time. Without exception, the people looking up have their mouths half open. I guess they are unaware of it. Because they have their heads tilted you can look straight into their mouths. If you stand in front of them, that is, which I don’t.
[I’m taking a Burger King order by phone for my friend – and I’m hungry too, but right now I like being hungry – it makes me feel more alive – my friend can’t choose his burger – I’m having great fun spelling out his order and commenting on every detail of it including his flawed pronunciation of the word vanilla. I’d be ashamed to order a vanilla milkshake the way he pronounces it, and will order it in my own fashion. He has nothing to say in this matter.]
The man sat on my right (a different bench, other side of the bin) is taking is shoe off to pull up his sand-coloured sock. A bit later I have an amusing conversation with the lady on my left, the man who changes the bin liners and the sock man. The bin man wears a fluorescent yellow jacket with his company name, ‘Robbers’. I tell the lady and the bin man I find this funny because of the English meaning of the word. I tell them it means something like Dutch ‘zakkenroller’ (literally ‘bag roller’), at which the lady says: ‘But he is a ‘zakkenroller’! And indeed the man is just unrolling a blue bin bag. ‘It’s pronounced differently, not the same. Different,’ he says, but smiles. And answers his phone.
I’ve had three different people sat left of me – a quiet man now, with a not too clean light beige coat, and a Kiosk coffee in his hand. I need to run and get our dinners now – mine will be a salad from the AH, by the way. I hope I can manage within 15 minutes.
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