Harlem

There were a few European kids dressed as Americans and so was I, I suppose. They were playing table tennis. I was on the couch beside the pool table. A slim black man was explaining the finer points of 'money shots' in the game of pool to me. He kept setting up demonstration shots and missing them. I nodded politely as he spoke although I was barely listening.
A Chinese guy was sitting next to me on the couch. He kept disappearing and returning with a can of Coke. He would alternate between hesitant sips and greedy glugs. He kept launching into abstract monologues about neuroscience, fourth dimensions, power distance, psychology, insanity. I smiled politely and nodded. He was reading a book entitled The Anatomy of Sex and Power.
I suddenly realised I was very thirsty. I excused myself to go fetch a cup of water from the kitchen downstairs.
I stood by the sink sipping water. A couple entered the kitchen and immediately struck up conversation with me. They had beer. They asked me if I wanted one. I said that I did.
The guy was named Jason. A blond haired, Australian, laconic youth. An archetype.
The lassie was Canadian. Slim, tanned, brunette. Her name was Anya.
She began preparing a meal.
Two more Australian gentlemen joined our company. Matt and Tom. Pale, washed out, queasy looking individuals.
I tired of their company and ventured back upstairs to the games room. I had been gone a while. My Chinese pal had disappeared. He had left his laptop and copy of The Anatomy of Sex and Power. I picked it up and leafed through it. Fairly disturbing stuff.
A German chap was knocking balls around on the pool table. I challenged him. I won the first game, lost the second.
Actually it was an ambiguous result, depending on what regional rules are specifically adhered to.