"Hey, I know you! You're a movie star, right?" says a tall man who has approached me from across the street. He's holding a plastic bag above his head to protect himself from the light drizzle.
Although I have to admit I'm flattered and don't mind being taken for a famous movie star, I tell the man I honestly am not.
"Where are you from?" he continues. "Amsterdam? Yes, I know you from Amsterdam! Actually I see you on television," he goes on. "You are famous and I am a movie director from Beirut. Let me invite you for a drink. I will pay." And he shows me his wallet with crisp hundred dollar bills in it. Now, I'm aware that people who show you their money on the street are always after some of yours.
I decline his invitation and tell him I'm waiting for my sandwich to be prepared at the shop behind me.
"Okay," he says. "I will buy you a sandwich."
"I already ordered one," I say again. "I'm going to eat my sandwich later in my studio.
He looks puzzled for a moment and then says, "Well, will you buy me a sandwich instead?"
"No," I reply.
Suddenly his eyes narrow, and with a different tone of voice he says, "You are a bad person. I just offered you a sandwich and now you will not give me one? I would never do something like that."
Now I feel bad. Yes, why not, I say to myself. Let's give the man a sandwich. We go into the sandwich shop, where he orders a sandwich and a Pepsi. As I take my money out to pay the cashier, he says with a little smile, 'You must hate me now. Let me pay for this," and he goes to take out his wallet. But the sandwich artist has already won
"No," I say firmly. "This one's on me."