Week 5 Reportage 1

I'm still holding Cortney's hand as we walk into the Varsity, I haven't been able to let go of her since we collided in the airport. Dirty tables holding up plates of grease guide us to the counter of yelling cashiers and impatient customers. This is exactly what I wanted, the opposite of an Italian establishment to remind me just how much I'll miss Italy. The young woman at the counter yells at me to come over.
"What'll ya have, what'll ya have?"
I order two bacon cheeseburgers and their famously greasy onion rings. She disappears into the crowd of workers and comes back with our meal on a bright red plastic tray.
"Grazie," I say, it's purely out of reaction.
She raises an eyebrow and hands us our meal. Why do I feel like I'll now be foreign in my own home?