Get On The Love Train

Berlin's public transport authority, the BVG, has a reputation for unorthodoxy. They have staged an underground short-film festival and hosted occasional parties on trams, buses and trains. Now they've set up an on-line page where love-besotted urbanites can post personal ads to those special strangers who stole their hearts on the subway.

Users specify the date, the time and the number of the subway line where their eye was caught -- as well as a clear description so the person in question can recognize her- or himself. The Web site even offers advice to would-be recipients of smitten declarations of passion, including what to wear and how to flash that enchanting smile.

"We're doing this to create good-will, of course," said BVG press spokesman Klaus Wazlak. "It's a small way of showing our human side and depicting public transport as a positive space."

And of counteracting Germany's declining birthrates? "No, no," Wazlak said. "That's probably beyond our capabilities."

Cold Fries, Flaming Hearts

The BVG launched the new page on February 14 -- Valentine's Day -- and almost a week later less than 50 people had responded. But its initiators aren't discouraged.

"It's not just the number of messages," Wazlak said. "Today alone we've had around 20,000 hits. And we think word-of-mouth will do the rest."

Indeed, the messages posted thus far make for interesting reading. Users have fallen for ticket inspectors and have written in looking for "the blond Mohawk with the black earlobes" or "Anna, the violinist from Bremen, with the cold French fries."

"I'm the Hunchback with the Case of the Sniffles"

Some of the responses read like miniature romance novels. "I see you every morning, when you get on in Königs Wusterhausen," wrote one user. "I always see you in the bus and on the train, and I hope you notice me, too."

A moving tale of silent, unrequited longing -- or so you might think until you read the next message from this user, which seems to proclaim an equally fervent passion for another commuter heading in the opposite direction.

Some of the postings verge on Monty Python. "O, blue-eyed creature with the thinning hair," wrote one man. "You gleefully smeared your kebab across your transparent blouse and impishly smiled at me. Please contact me. I'm the hunchback with the slight case of the sniffles and the stack of newspapers under his arm."

"I don't think the hunchback has much of a chance," Wazlak said. "If he's real."

But the BVG doesn't mind if there are some jokes geting mixed among missives from genuine lonely hearts.

"That's also part of the fun," Wazlak said.

With such a healthy sense of humor, here's hoping for the first BVG-mediated marriage -- but preferably not between a blond punk with black earlobes and a newspaper-bearing hunchback!