She-She

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I knew it was time for me to leave the city when I found myself sitting in the cafeteria of a big shopping mall. The last handful of days had been rainy and cold, I’d developed a sniffle, and I just wanted someplace warm to spend the day. I was hoping to catch a movie, but I arrived 15 minutes too late. So, I was having tea and trying to figure out what to do. As soon as I finished, I found my way to the bus station and bought a ticket to the old Ottoman town of Safranbolu.

When I boarded the bus early the next morning, I didn’t see any numbers, so I grabbed an open seat by the window. About an hour later, a young man got on and stopped next to me, giving me a look that was equal parts confusion and panic. It appeared I was in his seat. I moved over and allowed him to access the window. He sat down and called over the bus attendant. In their quick discussion, I understood all of one word, “bayan,” woman. The attendant asked to see my ticket. He held it next to that of the young man and studied them with cross-eyed confusion. Apparently there was a big problem.

I was sitting next to a male, and this simply could not be. The attendant pointed to an empty seat across the aisle and in his best English said, “She-She.” I gathered my things and moved to the more appropriate seat, feeling slightly dejected and discriminated against. I know that I’m carrying around a few more pounds (and a lot more wrinkles) than I did at 20, but I’d still like to think that a young man would be exhilarated to sit next to me for a six-hour bus journey. I guess I’m wrong, or way too radical for Turkish sentiment.

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