13
I ran into the man again later, in the lobby. He was at a pay phone by the stairs, flustered, reading numbers aloud from a scrap of paper in his hand. I wanted to use the phone myself. I waited in a chair nearby.
‘No, routing number,’ he was saying. ‘R-o-u-t–’ He stopped, searching the ceiling. ‘Ah, número de – no es el número de la cuenta. Es el número de – de–’
‘Ruta,’ I said, taking mercy on him.
He looked over, frenzied. ‘What?’
‘It’s número de ruta.’
He repeated that into the phone, apparently with success. He finished his call, looking calmer, and then came over to my chair. ‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘I was spinning in circles.’
‘Not at all,’ I said. I didn’t want to make my call with other people around – it was an old habit. I thought about coming down to do it later.
‘Your Spa
