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The American

In my Italian language class the teacher went around the room and asked each of us where we were from. I was the lone American. An hour later, when break time came round, a young man, from somewhere quite cold and we’ll leave it at that, leaned into me and whispered into my ear, “So, it’s not true that Americans never travel anywhere?” Well, I replied the only way I could: I unbuttoned my jeans, put my feet up on the desk, pulled out a Big Mac with a side of fries and a 2 liter bottle of Coke, turned up the portable radio I had fastened to my shoulder and  screamed as loud as I could, “We don’t.”

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