The first thing to flash through my mind was, "Who is John Galt?" So I asked him, "Who is John Galt?"
"No, no, no," replied the man. "I'm Oleg on Tuesdays."
We studied each other. He was a rather short man with thick brown hair and blue, blue eyes. He had tiny ears, a hooked nose and a small carpet bag. He was Oleg on Tuesdays. But it was Friday.
"Sir," I began. "If you're Oleg on Tuesdays, who are you, today?"
He stared at me. "What day is this?" he asked suspiciously.
"Friday," I said.
He blinked.
I blinked.
"I'm, uh... I'm Oleg on Tuesdays." He didn't look very sure.
I began to get upset. "Look. Today is Friday. You claim to be Oleg on Tuesdays. Who are you, today?"
Oleg on Tuesdays suddenly regained his composure. He glared at me hautily. "I am always Oleg on Tuesdays, sir. It is disappointing that you doubt me. Who are YOU, today? And what is it that you're doing here?"
I had never encountered Oleg on Tuesays before, but I didn't expect him to be so hostile. I thought I would lie. "I have to catch my bus."
Oleg on Tuesdays didn't comment or move. I was rather offended. Somehow, I felt like I'd bonded with Oleg on Tuesdays, and his non-reaction to my statement was hurtful.
"Oleg on Tuesdays?" I asked.
"What?" he barked.
"I'm sorry." I said.
He smiled. "I knew it!"
Oleg on Tuesdays stood up. He was wearing a blue-green kilt. I had ceased to be surprised by Oleg on Tuesdays. He began to dance. I wondered if all Olegs on Tuesdays had very hairy legs.
"Would you care to dance with me?" invited Oleg on Tuesdays.
I shook my head. "I'm not wearing a kilt."
I felt the kilt was a qualifying factor. Oleg on Tuesdays laughed at me.
I frowned. "Oleg on Tuesdays?" His name was, after all, a question.
"You're a strange one," he said.
I balked. "I'M strange? MY name isn't Oleg on Tuesdays! You are the most bizarre character I've ever MET!"
Oleg on Tuesdays just smiled. He picked up his carpet bag, brushed off his kilt, and started to walk away.
"Oleg on Tuesdays!" I shouted.
He turned around, fixed those blue, blue eyes on me and said, "Exactly." And then he walked away.
I never saw Oleg on Tuesdays again. But on some bus station days, I close my eyes, listen to the whispering of the Greyhounds in the trees, and think of him.