I once had to catch a ferry to Ryde but by mistake got off at the wrong train station. As I wandered around outside, looking lost, a boy—I'd say about 12 years old—rode up to me on a bike. “May I help you, sir?” he asked. He was smoking a cigarette and wearing a tophat and tails.
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I remember feeling a sudden sense of stress as my British instincts kicked in and I thought to myself, "this is weird, but whatever you do, don't let on that you think it's weird". "Would you mind, awfully, directing me to the ferry port?" I said. He obliged, and that was that.
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I was momentarily a bit flustered, but I think I got away with it.
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