Again, Alexanderplatz. I’m going up, up, up on the escalator from the third to the fourth floor in one of the big classy buildings overlooking the square. I’m in a rush, and there are a lot of people. Next Sunday is the first Sunday in Advent, and we all have to get prepared for the mutually shared condition of expectation that will only get better once we’ve actually eaten the turkey and the cookies. Anyway, so there’s this man on the escalator going down, down, down, and he’s talking into his mobile phone, and I look at him, and he doesn’t look at me, and just as we pass each other—“Honey, I’m sorry I can’t hear you, I’m in the basement.”