My English teacher warned me: “Americans are fake. They say ‘how are you,’ but they don’t mean it.” Day one. Gas station. A man: “Hey man, how’s it going?” It’s a trap. I say nothing. I walk away. He follows. “Sir? You dropped this—” I walk faster. He walks faster. I run. He runs. Two blocks. Still chasing me, holding three dollars. Finally he stops, out of breath, and shouts: “I JUST WANTED YOU TO HAVE A GOOD DAY!” I had a good day. Those three dollars are framed on my wall. My English teacher has never been to America. I’m starting to notice a pattern.