Hi Honey, How Was Your Day?

I've already mentioned that in order to get to the institute where I'm working, one must choose between the two approaching routes: through gypsy shanty-town or Prostitute Road. For a variety of reasons, I take the path through gypsy shanty-town, and this hasn't really been a problem.

Today, I was returning home in the evening and as I approached gypsy shanty-town, a young boy of around 16 or so approached me with his hand upturned for spare change, muttering in Georgian. "I don't speak Georgian," I replied.

Undeterred, he shimmied forward to block my way. "Ken you help me?" he said in English, upturned palm thrusting forward.

"Sorry, I only have my bus fare."

Then without changing the bored expression on his face, he extended his arm and I found myself looking dead-level down the barrel of a small pistol.

"Do you hev mobile phone?" he drawled.

One often wonders what one would do or say in such a situation. One even has a variety of guesses has to how she might behave. Never would I have guessed that this is what I would say:

"Oh my god. Are you serious?" in a sneering accent I can only call High Laguna Beach.

He paused for a moment, and in that moment I realized two things: he was not serious and his gun was not real.

"No," he said and clicked the trigger on his toy just to prove it.

"That's really not nice!" I absurded. "You kids today!"

With his friends snickering and his half-hearted call of "Bye!" I realized that he might have even been trying to flirt with me.

Well, now tomorrow presents a new challenge. Do we continue down Cowboys 'n Indians Avenue or blaze new trails up Prostitue Boulevard?

Sigh. Between this and the old fat guy who was unceremoniously rubbing his business on my thigh on an insanely crowded bus the other day, I think it's time to explore my telecommuting options?