She liked that he didn’t immediately hit on her, and didn’t seem to be playing at any sort of game. He had a long brown beard and wispy long hair under a tweed flat cap. His eyes were playful and good natured. She liked him immediately.

The bartender still had not noticed him, so she decided to talk to him. “So what brings you to Chicago?”

He looked down at his outfit, and then back up to her. “Who says I’m not a native?”

She smiled and imitated his “Sew-rry.”

He laughed, “Yeah, I suppose that’s a pretty good giveaway. I’m here for work. What about you?”

“Work as well. What do you do?”

He leaned against the bar more comfortably, settling in to chat with her some more. “Well, I don’t really like to talk about it.”

She studied his face, and saw nothing but sincerity there. None of the teasing or toying that Tom or guys like him would pull. “Come on, you can tell me. Are you ashamed or something?”

His smile was so comforting and disarming. She felt like she could talk to him for days. “No, I wouldn’t say that.” Then he thought for a moment. “Instead of the whole job conversation… Tell me… What do you like about Chicago?”

She nodded, and said the first thing that popped into her head. “I like the little shampoos at the hotel. I always stay at the same hotel, and I love the little bottles.”

He asked, “Do you have a little bottle fetish, or is there something special about these?”

She thought about it. “Well, they’re shaped like tulips, and it’s actually good shampoo, not the stuff that leaves your hair feeling like dried hemp. Do you know what I mean?”

He nodded. “I have a friend who practically collects those things. But then she never uses them. And when I ask her about it, she says she likes to have them just in case.”

She was still laughing, when he asked, “So, you come to this great city, and all you like is the shampoo? Do you drive when you’re here?”

She shook her head, “No. I would hate driving here. There’s always traffic. I walk as much as I can, or take a cab. What about you?”

“Same. I fly in, and I usually take public transit when I can.”

She responded, “Riding busses in different cities is like a science experiment.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s a quick way to gauge if people are happy. So if you ever have to move, ride a bus before you decide. Get a feel for the spirit of the people, you know?”

He nodded. “Yeah, in Vancouver, you can definitely get around without a car, but no one really likes riding the bus. They say Thank you to the driver, and people are generally courteous. But you really see what it’s all about when someone does something crazy. I like to watch how people respond. In Vancouver, everyone tries to ignore the crazy drunk lady or the homeless guy ranting. But one time in Toronto, I was on a subway when a teenager was singing too loudly, and an older man yelled at him angrily: ‘Be Polite!’ It was great.”

They both laughed, and she said, “The geriatric social police. How great!”

The bartender asked them both if they wanted another drink, and the nice guy looked at her, “I’d like to keep you company, but I have to meet my Air BnB host at 9.

She had liked talking to this guy too much. “Are you walking?”

He nodded.

“Which direction.”

He pointed.

“That’s the way I’m going. Can I walk with you?”

His eyes opened slightly wider, as if he wasn’t expecting that response, but he smiled and nodded politely. “Of course.”