You Win This Round! [shakes fist]

Went to Brussels the weekend past. So Gleb and I could reacquaint ourselves with with the common man, we took the airport bus instead of the aircoach.

Some adorable scamps, just out from school, got on the bus. They surrounded us, down the back. One of the scamps [hence forward known as "Punk Kid"] was making farting noises behind a woman's back. I got tired of this rather quickly. I told him to cop on. He turned around, eyeballed me and then Gleb, who was smiling, an image of Glasnost. I repeated myself and his stony glare jack-knifed back to me. [one of us was over his head]. He asked me what the problem was, and I told him he was annoying people. Nettled, he demanded to know who he was annoying. I told him that it was me. The riposte scored, the Punk Kid turned around without further comment.¹

He and his cronies sat before us in silence. Embarrassed? Maybe. Seething? Possibly. The y quietly gathered their bags and exitted in an orderly fashion. A few moments passed. The tannoy crackled: "Would the two men sitting at the back of the bus stop smoking and drinking!". We shrugged the announcement off, bewildered. Shortly thereafter, the bus driver ascended the the stairwell, stared directly at Gleb and I, and repeated his warning about drinking and smoking on the bus.

We were gobsmacked.
Wheels turned.

Clearly someone had made the baseless accusation...

In hindsight, the Punk Kid had taken the sleight rather well, particularly for a punk kid. Gleb and I marvelled at the vengeance served slightly chilled. I had always been of the opinion that the kids immature enough to make fart noises lacked the capacity for foresight and cool reasoning. Instead of F-ing and blinding his rage away at the first instance, he waited. The boy waited until he could get away Scot free, honour satisfied.

The boy will rule Dublin some day...

¹It was like something out of a thriller, except it revolved around fart noises, a skinny little kid and a man probably twice his body weight :/