Smiling in Zoliborz

Yesterday morning I backed out of my driveway, trying as usual not to get broad-sided by some maniac Pole barreling down my tiny little street. As I've noted before, Poles drive like bats out of hell, whether tearing down the main drag or speeding though my itsy-bitsy little neighborhood. It doesn't seem to matter where they are, but dammit, those Poles are in a hurry! 

Backing out of my driveway is even more of a hazard because on my street, like everywhere else in Poland, everyone seems to love parking all over the sidewalk with their giant SUVs all higglety-pigglety and blocking the view. (Yeah, SUVs are popular here too, even with the price of petrol at about $10/gallon.)

I'm taking my life in my hands whenever I go out of the drive, but believe you me, I am careful. I back out sooooooo slowly. Like your grandma. 

Your grandma on very strong drugs. Sedatives, perhaps.

Anyway, as I finished this extremely slowwwwww automotive maneuver, a well-dressed man about my age was walking past. (My age? Hmmm, classified. But let's just say, around the half-century mark.)

I stopped, shifted into first gear, looked up at him, and he flashed THE BIGGEST AND MOST GORGEOUS SMILE at me!

And my first thought was, "Whoa, somebody got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning! You're in Poland, remember? Poles do NOT smile at strangers!"

Good God, what was he thinking?

Unless, perhaps, he wasn't smiling at me, but instead at my Hello Kitty air freshener hanging from the mirror? Now that would make more sense.