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"Yes, I still have a place to stay," I said. "And no, I don't need to meet any girls. I'm just looking for some place to eat lunch."

"Why don't you go to McDonald's? American food for Mr. America, yes?"

"But Mr. America is in Turkey now," I said. "So maybe he'll eat Turkish food."

"Turkish food is for Turkish people. McDonald's is better for you. Maybe you can buy me a hamburger, OK? I want to try a McDonald's."

"You've never eaten at McDonald's before?"

"McDonald's is for Americans. I am so poor!"

Against my better judgement, I decided to indulge him. "What kind of hamburger do you want?"

"A big delicious one. And a Coca-Cola. I will wait right here until you come back."

"If I buy you a hamburger, you have to come to McDonald's and eat it with me."

The Senegalese boy seemed to hesitate for a moment before falling into step with me. On our way to the restaurant, he told me his name was Ahmad. "Do you think I am very handsome?" he asked.

"I'm just buying you a burger, Ahmad. I don't want to be your girlfriend."

Ahmad let out an embarrassed laugh. "No, no," he said. "I want to know, am I very handsome? Could I go to Sweden, do you think?"

"What does Sweden have to do with whether or not you're handsome?"

"I think rich Sweden women like boys from Africa. I want to go to Sweden with a rich woman."

"Sweden is cold, Ahmad."

"But I think rich women are very warm!"

At McDonald's, I ordered two Big Mac meals. Ahmad temporarily forgot his hustler persona as he devoured the food in silence and stared around at the spotless, mass-produced interior. "That was my best food ever," he said, somewhat dispassionately, when he'd finished. "Now I will help you find a pretty girl."

"I was thinking of something else, Ahmad. How would you like to go out for a smoke?"

Ahmad's face lit up and he leaned in toward me. "You smoke hash?" he said in a loud whisper. "I will find some for cheap price!"

"I don't want to smoke hash," I said. "I know something better."

Next page | "Was that black boy your friend?"