Complimentary philosophy

It's a universally acknowledged fact that Vienna's public transport is a breeding ground for all kinds of weirdos. I'm not talking about the olfactory challenging ones (in summer, you wonder if deodorants have been abolished for good) nor the fact that some male passengers prefer to expose themselves in subway carriages or find the close proximity of strangers very sexually stimulating. And I mean VERY. No, I'm talking about the bizarre conversations you can't help overhear unless you've got earphones on. Personally, I prefer being just an eavesdropper to being actually engaged in conversation myself although I do seem to have "TALK.TO.ME!" written on my forehead in fluorescent letters.

I once listened to 2 old ladies having an animated discussion on a bus (the 66A, for the record). After one was done complaining about her husband, the other said, "I feel for you, they really can be a nuisance. You know what, I'm so glad I no longer have to stay up, worrying myself sick wondering when mine'll come back from the pub. Nooo, I know where he is all right. Tucked away safe and sound in Zentralfriedhof where I can visit him every weekend if I want to."

Last week, on the bus (48A) on my way to work, a rather battered-looking man suddenly addressed the two students (?) sitting next to him: "Young gentlemen, mind if I ask you something? What would be an intelligent answer to a question not asked?" Unfortunately, I couldn't hear what they replied but apparently they humoured him because when they got off at the next stop, Mr. Philosopher just continued talking to himself along the lines of "Monsieur le Président, do you realise this? Can you perhaps digitalise this?"

If I hadn't had the privilege of listening to similarly kafkaesque conversations on a variety of busses, trams and subway lines in Vienna, I might have arrived at the conclusion that the density of very peculiar passengers on the 48A is related to the fact that said bus originates at Baumgartner Höhe psychiatric hospital.

Be that as it may, an annual ticket for the capital's public transport might not come cheap at € 409 but you certainly get free entertainment with it.

Lunch-break purchase: I stocked up on the Body Shop's "White Musk" extra rich body cream which I love and look forward to slapping on post-shower every morning. Practical side-effect of being lusciously scented all over - you can furtively sniff your wrists or arms if a particularly smelly bus-passenger (see above) takes your breath away and I mean NOT in a knight-in-shining-armour-way.