After returning from a hike yesterday I abandoned my family (at least, that’s the way they seemed to see it) and drove into Vienna to meet someone I will call R.

My girls seem to be getting used to me meeting bloggers by now, but they still have to explain it to their grandparents.

Grandmother: He’s what?
Gamma: He’s going to Vienna to meet a girl from the Internet.

I had to fill her car’s tank and run to the U-Pick for a basket of strawberries before Alpha let me leave.

I got to St. Stephen’s Cathedral on time, didn’t see R. anywhere, so I went into the subway station to use the restroom. There were several other men already lined up at the urinals. One fat man appeared to be doing a no-hands pee, with both hands in his pants pockets. Another was giving his johnson a great deal of shaking. A third was watching me pretty closely. Many restroom sinks in Austria now have these electric-eye things that turn on the water when you hold your hands underneath. These did not, which I figured out within sixty seconds. The hot-air hand-dryers, however, did have an electric eye function.

As I exited the restroom I saw R. walking by, looking just as she described herself to me on the telephone

I’m twenty-seven, and look about twenty-seven.

I didn’t accost her at once, however, because some people don’t like it when men they don’t know jump out of restrooms and introduce themselves. Some probably do like it, but since I didn’t know her I didn’t want to take any chances.

So I followed her until she was outside the station, in front of the cathedral.

When people visit me in Vienna, I don’t show them around so much as I wander around with them. R seemed impressed by all the Starbucks Vienna now boasts. She turns out to be a very good visitor, since she doesn’t mind wandering around Vienna, and is good at filling in the empty spots in conversation.

When I got tired of walking around, we went to the Hawelka coffee house, where Mrs. Hawelka, who could be 90 or could be 100 is still running around chatting with guests. We talked about various things. Upon learning that I’ve never heard Ann Coulter speak, R. did an Ann Coulter impression that gave me a panic attack.

Holding up my end of the conversation, I told R. all about my kids.

Then we walked around some more. Occasionally I would interrupt whatever she was saying to point out some object of interest:

Me: Straight A’s. Foreign exchange student. Gold medal…
R.: … with sequins. It made me look like some 80’s Polish hooker…
Me: That netting up there is to keep the pigeons out.

How do you pronounce “cabal” anyway? We were talking about Bush etc and I noticed too late that I do not know how that word is pronounced. Back when I left the country, you know, that word wasn’t commonly used in conversation. I have only read it, never heard it. Is it like “cable” or like “caballe” or something else?

I wandered us back to the subway station. I mentioned I had to use one of the restrooms. Coming from New York, R. found it quaint that subway restrooms in Vienna were still used primarily as restrooms. “Well, one guy was really looking me over last time I was in there,” I said. I decided not to mention the fat guy with both hands in his pockets.

Then I went home. “How was your girl from the Internet,” my wife asked me. “Twenty-seven,” I said. “Young enough to be your daughter,” she said. “Theoretically,” I said.