Ice by Rose Sanders

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our first breakfast was delicious. and i ordered ice twice. at first, i was a little afraid to ask because i thought i might get a strange look in return, but when i finally got up the courage, and asked politely for ice, i was met with an enthusiastic, “of course,” and in the blink of an eye, i had two large ice cubes sitting in a glass in front of me. i drank my freshly iced orange juice and then realized i would need more ice to make my water cold. i asked again (politely) if i could please have another glass of ice, and it was in that moment that i truly experienced feeling you get when someone tells you your underwear is peeking out of your clothes: my americanness was showing.