Last night Dad and I went to an Italian restaurant for dinner. The place was hoppin' and so we got seated in a booth with a large German man who was trying unsuccesfully to get a table for one. He quickly realized that we didn't speak German, but he didn't hesitate to try conversing with us in his slightly limited English. When the waiter came to take our order I ended up ordering a pizza for some reason. When the pizza came, the portly German man said to us, "you come from the land of good pizza, and yet you order pizza in Germany." We proceeded to explain to him that pizza isn't good in all parts of the country, but anyway I just thought it was a funny comment. So from now on the United States of America shall be known as The Land of Good Pizza.
We'll be getting on a train to Budapest in a few hours.
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