you never know on the metro

by annie

He introduced himself as James Bond. A young, scrawny guy with pimples and crust in the corner of his eye, he approached us on the Madrid metro. Spaniards need less personal space than we do, so his face was very close to my face.

We had raced onto the metro after a late start, on our way to catch a bus to Granada. Standing in the aisle with our heavy packs, we must have looked alarmingly American, because it didn't take long for Mr. Bond to single us out in the crowded car. First, he offered me his seat and it took several declinations for him to accept no for an answer. Next, he pulled out a worn down American one-dollar bill and asked if we had any American money. Of course we do, we told him. He wanted to know if he could have it. What for? we asked. He's going to Washington in August and wants a donation. As simple as that. Brian told him that he should stay in Madrid- a nice way of saying, "hell no, you can't have our money!" Lookers-on were smirking, we were amused and his happy face remained close to mine until we shook hands and he departed the train.