One last visit to Bank of America

Stijn walks in right before closing time (1pm), half asleep, with trashy pants, messy hair and a pounding headache. He's welcomed by perfect-colgate-smile-way-too-frenetic Amy, who has put on more make-up today than my grandmother in entire lifetime, and still, doesn't look any better than my grandmother (and she's 80+).

She kicks off with the habitual: "How are you today ?"
"I feel great, never felt so great before" I reply. With a look as if I'm about to commit suicide.
"What can I do for you today ?" At this point, her smile starts hurting my eyes, and my jaw.
"I need a cash advance converted into a cashier check to The Carroll Apartments"
"Awesome, I'll take care of that for you right away. Do you have an account with us ?"
"Yes, here's my card and ID" She grabs both with the eager look of a kid sticking both hands in the cookie jar. A passport means foreigner. As exotic as an extra terrestrial.
"Excellent ! Wow, Belgium? Cool! For how much would you like your check ?"
"Nine ninety five"
"9.95 ?"
"No, nine hundred ninety five"
"995 ! Awesome" (What the f*** is so awesome about 995 ?)
"Ok, great ! Just a second, your check is printing. Cool ! Here you go Stin. Do I pronounce that correctly, Stin ?"
"Stan"
"Stan ? Awesome, Stan. Here's your check. Perfect! Anything else I can do for you on this beautiful day ?"
"Yes. Well........actually, no. Thanks."
"Awesome. Have a great day Stan! And enjoy your Labor day weekend! "
"Yeah.....you too"

American customer service. Wonderful.

3 weeks

I'm ending this blog as I started it: writing frequently.

3 hectic weeks ahead - wrapping up, often saying "see you soon", dinners, visits of "a last time", nostalgic glimpses and drive-by's...

looking at the city with different eyes - similar to the "new" eyes of the first weeks, but different: seeing the beauty in the ugly, the remarkable in the common, the uniqueness in the dull. Grasping the memory of a city I want to leave but got to love.