By ORLANDO ALVAREZ
It was the summer of 1990, and I was living in an apartment building in Jackson Heights, Queens. Everything looked good to me. I had started to meet new neighbors and make new friends because I had moved there not long before. I remember at that time there was an important event going on in Europe. It was the soccer World Cup, and everybody was following it.
One Saturday evening, the most important game finally arrived. It was Colombia vs. Germany. A lot of people were outside of my building watching the game because the super had put a TV in the window facing the street. People got very excited, and they made a lot of noise. They were celebrating, and of course, drinking beer.
Suddenly, I turned my eyes to the left, and I saw a woman sitting down next to me. She was holding a plastic bag in her right hand. I remember that she said, “Hello.” But I couldn’t answer because my communication in English was very limited at that time. She continued talking to me and asking so many questions: “What’s happening here? Why are a lot of people on the street?” Finally, she realized that it was a soccer game.
After a little while, I asked her if she drank beer. She started to laugh, “No, I don’t drink. I just pick up the empty cans:’ The game was getting interesting, and the people continued drinking. At the end of the

