You Never Know Who Is Going To Sit Next To You

Poland has some nice new trains. Lots of leg room, meal service on carts, like on an airplane, except the food is actually decent. Sound-wise, the train is contaminated by endless loud cell phone yacking, to the point where I couldn't actually hear the sound of the train itself. Either lots of people were having excited/angry conversations or that's just the way Polish sounds. 

At first, my seat mate seemed rather charming...a gentle-looking girl covered with a huge lap blanket, which later on turned into her coat. Under that blanket was a dog. What seemed like a nice little dog. They both slept for a while, the dog with his head on her chest & didn't it look cozy & innocent.

That bucolic little scene didn't last too long. The dog woke up & wiggled & squiggled & whined until his mistress woke too. What had seemed like a fairly compact dog stood up & turned into a lanky greyhound. Thus ensued hours of wrangling to keep the dog from staring longingly at my sandwich & panting, trying to get comfortable by letting his legs expand but by bit by bit until they slung halfway across my lap (for a while I thought maybe he was a fawn in disguise...his legs were so long), yawning conspicuously in my face, etc.

At times she let him down and he stood in the aisle, extravagantly in the way of everyone passing by. By this time they both seemed spoiled bratty, possessing some sense of superiority having to do with the dog himself.

At least he didn't bark.

BUT...he farted for 6 straight hours, awake or asleep. At least I think it was him. Maybe it was his mistress, using him as cover. 

They were no longer the slightest bit attractive.

Thankfully, on a train, the scenery always provides a welcome, hypnotic escape.