One
“I’m afraid there are no seats on the ground floor” and I could see for myself that the place was full. “But if you’d care to try the first floor” -- so I started up the narrow wooden staircase. Same story, full house, and that staircase doubled back on itself all the way to the top floor before I heard “Would you mind sharing?” Well of course I wouldn’t; dining with strangers is a tourist adventure. “The table in the far corner has an empty place, back there with the two young ladies?”
I snaked between the tables, and the young ladies smiled a welcome. Settling into the corner, I put off the moment when I would speak and reveal I was American.
“Here I am in the farthest corner, five stories up, and the place is jam-packed" I was thinking. "Don’t see any exit except that narrow wooden staircase way over on the other side. I’m all alone, nobody knows I’m here. If this place catches fire no one will ever know what became of me.”
But another part of my brain was watching the young ladies, making a note to write Anna that girls in
“Excuse me, but we were wondering if you were an American. Because you look like a friend of ours, Anna Lank.”
They were from
I never did think Annie and I looked much alike. Just dug up pictures from the early 70s -- what do you think?
Wow, what an amazing story. I'm envious, because the only time someone recognized me in England, it was someone I'd far rather not have encountered. (In Blackwell's, yet.)
ReplyDeleteAnd of course you and Anna look alike; I thought so when I met her at a JASNA Rochester meeting. Same goes for Ari, whom I met in Chicago at your breakout at the 2008 AGM.
you never told me this story! i wonder if one of the girls was libby russler! of course we look alike. but really, i want to know how the macaroni al forno was....
ReplyDeleteA wonderful story! Don't give up......
ReplyDelete