White people at the laundromat won't sit with Mexicans. They huddle near windows where they can eye their cars.

I'm happier with the Mexicans. They're warm and friendly to me, so I sit at a small table with a brilliantly sparkle-eyed young daughter who demonstrates her phone. Her family all have phones, but they don't have a computer at home and there aren't many at school, so when it's my turn I walk her through the main features of my MacBook, demonstrating some of the specialized software she's unlikely to have encountered. There's Eclipse and Xcode for programming, Scrivener and Sublime Text for writing. I show her the Xcode source for TriadCity, then open the app on my phone so she can see it working. She's transfixed, and now her parents are watching over our shoulders. We all shake hands when they leave; Mom gives me a hug.

Two blonde young sisters, casting stolen glances. Why? Distinguished gray-haired gentleman? Or is my shirt on backward?