Something interesting happened this afternoon as I was waiting for the streetcar at Piazzale Flaminio. I got off the 95 bus right as a tram was leaving, and so I saw this guy not get on the tram. I was holding a book, looking around and reseeing a very familiar place. So this guy somehow makes eye contact, comes over to me, and here follows the dialogue, more or less.

him: Does the tram come about every five minutes?
self: Yes, more or less.
him: Are you Italian?
self: Yes. (which isn't really a lie but also not really the truth)
him: That's strange, because you look Polish or something.
self: Actually, I'm American.
him (in English): Really? Because I used to live in New York for 8 years, for 2o years and I was an editor at the New Yorker. (or something totally strange like that)
self: (blank stare)

Finally, the tram comes, and so I get on and sit down where he can't sit next to me. He was standing over me kind of, and I take out my book and start reading. Thankfully, yet also strangely, he gets off the tram.