paranoia

Rushed out of the door, as usual behind schedule.
Started towards the tram stop, when suddenly a head appeared from around the corner.
At that moment, Time obviously decided it’s space for a break and from then on my memory recalls everything as if in slow motion.
I blinked and the head gradually came into focus, followed by the rest of the organism.
Straw hair in dreadlocks. Long dreadlocks, to be precise. Further down, a weathered T-shirt and a pair of khaki combat shorts. A bike with something indescribable trailing behind on wheels, topped with a brownish bundle and an item my brain later identified as an exhaust pipe. Slightly Betelgeusean eyes.
And behind him, another one – the same straw ponytail (no dreadlocks this time), and the thing trailing behind his bike a trifle closer to definability.
It took me some effort to realise the first creature had started to make noises.
Do you speak English?
Another burst of energy went into ignoring the unmistakably West Germanic accent in his voice. Cut it out, young lady. Oi!
We’re looking for bike route. The purple one.
Upon which they show me a map of… what? Central Europe, I wouldn’t wonder – certainly Prague isn’t bigger that some 10 cm. And verily, across it runs a deep purple band about three milimetres wide, thus completely covering the area of Nusle valley. No way street names could feature there, of course.
Errr. Sorry.
That’s okay, he lilted again and smiled. We’d just like to get HERE.
He pointed somewhere between Malešice and Průhonice. My brow knitted in desperation and my hand waved vaguely in the direction of Hostivař. I’d have shown them the way to Horsehead Nebula with the same assurance, if they had asked me.
Thank you, he nodded and mounted his steed again, handing the map to his companion. The second being folded the sheet carefully and put it into its plastic suit. Head downwards unfortunately, so I only managed to decipher something like Gouw….
And then they were gone.
Right. I wouldn’t want to look like a maniac. Maybe they weren’t Flemings, after all. Perhaps they really came from somewhere in the vicinity of Betelgeuse. But even if it wasn’t for their soft speech – there was more to their laid-backness to meet the eye.
That laid-backness, so typical for Belgians…