with crowds backed up waiting to cross the intersection, cars jammed
together, and papers blowing every which way. I followed him right into
the thick of it.
After one block, Evan put down my suitcase. "This is heavy," he said.
"What do you have in here?"
"My coal collection."
He looked at me blankly.
"Just funning with you," I said and punched him in the shoulder. Evan
wasn't too quick on the uptake, but I took that as a good sign. There was
no reason for me to be automatically in awe of the wit and intellect of
these New Yorkers.
I picked up the suitcase. Evan did not insist I give it back to him. In fact,
he seemed sort of relieved that I was carrying it. We continued on down
the block, and he kept glancing at me sideways.
"You West Virginia girls are one tough breed," he said.
"You got that right," I told him. Evan dropped me off at a German
restaurant called Zum Zum. Lori was behind the counter, carrying four
beer steins in each hand, her hair in twin buns and speaking in a thick
German accent because, she explained later, it increased tips. "Dees ees
mein seester!" she called out to the men at one of her tables. They raised
their beer steins and shouted. "Velkomen to New Yorken!"
I didn't know any German, so I said, "Grazi!"
They all got a chuckle out of that. Lori was in the middle of her shift, so
I went out to wander the streets. I got lost a couple of times and had to
ask directions. People had been warning me for months about how rude