Portuguese Tourist

Those who have travelled on London's buses on multiple occasions will almost certainly be familiar with the Lecherous Freak. Bus-riding freaks come in many forms, but the Lecherous Freak is one of the most annoying because of his persistence.

Unfortunately I had to endure a Lecherous Freak on a recent bus journey - again, on the number 6, which is a fairly civilised bus compared to some others like the *cough*25*cough*. A Portuguese guy and his wife wandering around in Queen's Park. The guy asks me, "Does this bus go to Oxford Circus?" We're standing at the 6 bus stop, on the right side of the road, and I have a rule of being generally helpful to tourists, so I say yes. He then asks "How do you get to Arsenal?". WTF? Do you want to go to Oxford Circus or Arsenal? I say I don't know, but you can't get a bus that goes to Arsenal from this bus stop. The guy seems satisfied with this. He talks for a while with his wife in Portuguese about how cold it is. Which is odd, because it really wasn't. I can understand Portuguese because it sounds like Spanish that had a head-on collision with a banjo and a bottle of moonshine. I wouldn't, however, try speaking Spanish to a Portuguese person as you never know if they're going to get annoyed at you.

The (really OTT) bitching about how cold it is is brought to an end by the arrival of that majestic chariot, the number 6. We all get on the bus. The Portuguese guy asks the driver, "Do you go to Piccadilly Circus?" WTF? Now you want to go to Piccadilly Circus? Jeez. Then he asks how much it is. The driver says, "Four pounds."

Admittedly £2 a journey is pretty steep considering you're likely to be exposed to all sorts of unpleasantness during it and it will probably take hours in London's traffic. But hey-ho, just look at it as a cultural experience. The tourist seems unwilling to take this view and incredulously asks the price a few more times, perhaps in the hope that the bus driver will lower it. The bus driver does not, so he pays it and comes to sit down. Next to me. Joy. Why don't you sit next to your wife??

He comments about how expensive the bus is. Now, my tolerance for tourists doesn't extend this far, especially because I was on the phone at the time trying to sort out something for work, so I shrug apathetically. Not getting the reaction he wants from me, he then bitches to his wife about how expensive it is. They repeat variations of "ay, that's ridiculous, that's unbelievable," etc.

I spend the next twenty minutes attempting to look really busy writing a to-do list and getting increasingly annoyed at the guy, whose hand is mysteriously ending up on my right thigh despite the repeated murderous glares I am giving him. Not only is he a Lecherous Freak, but his wife's sat right on the seat in front!

By the time the bus gets to Edgware Road I've really had enough of the freak and have been sending frantic sympathy-seeking text messages. He, unfortunately, has not had enough of asking questions, and now proceeds to ask, "Where is Galeries Lafayette?"

Er...am I hallucinating? Since when did Edgware Road transform into Paris, Berlin, Nice or the like? There is no fecking Galeries Lafayette in London. The number 6 is not the Eurostar, sorry. I pretend I didn't hear the question or that it wasn't addressed to me (forgivable given I was staring out of the window). The guy asks the driver, who is equally confused. "Do you mean Selfridges?"

"No," says the guy, "Galeries Lafayette."

"There's no Galeries Lafayette in London."

"Is it...where the Ox-ford Street?"

"Do you mean Selfridges?"

"No...Galeries Lafayette."

"That shop isn't in London."

"The Ox-ford Street?"

"Next stop," says the bus driver, who is probably as happy as I am that the bus is now rounding the corner at Marble Arch.

The guy knocks on the window where I'm sitting and waves at me as he and his wife head off down Oxford Street in search of Galeries Lafayette.