I make my way towards the bus doors when a hand rests on my shoulder. “Do you have to take this bus right now?”
As I look at the man’s face I try to profile. “No, I don’t.”
I stay, feet planted, as the bus doors close and it’s tires lose their distance from the curb.
He identifies himself as Marc Antoni and a plastered look of conflict finds its way onto my face with ease. Do I recognize this man? “Vietnam…” he says.
I’m hit with a cocktail of relief and amazement. “Ho Chi Min City! How are you?”
We start walking down the street following the trail the bus left behind. We both take turns giving the last four years of Sparknotes. We stop at a corner and shake hands as he goes one way and I go the other, head shaking.