A Chinese friend recommends Italian food;

When they returned to civilization, they stopped in Italy. Rather than go into the local Wells Fargo, for rolls of quarters, Sam and Ursula dropped by a full service laundry to get their clothes washing done. The relevant Chinaman was not tall, and showed his true colors by being friendly, if not too familiar. "I'm Trey," Sam introduced himself, "...and this is Ursula." "I'm Li Nippon, call me Mr. Lee," he responded. "Wouldn't that be Mr. Nippon?" Sam asked obviously. "Oh NO, they are from JAPAN," Mr. Li hastened to assure him. "In CHINA, we put the family name Last. Nippon is a VERY _Distinguished_ name in Japan, but Li is common in China, like Jones." Sam was please to boast a mutual acquaintance. "Travis' cousin Tommy from Hollywood... all _his_ dry-cleaners call HIM Mr. Lee," he observed, "but In Hollywood they still call him Mr. Jones." Ursula was not to be left out. "Famous Law School Graduate," she added, "...got a degree too!" she added redundantly. The cleaner was immediately impressed. "You know Mr. LEE?" he asked. "Not personally, but he IS Texan, and Texans tend to stick together overseas." Whatever his personal thoughts on the matter, Mr. Li was polite. "We too know a Mr. Lee from overseas," he shared generously. "He did not know KungFu, but he shared his Karate with everyone equally, just like the Declaration of Independence." "You mean BRUCE LEE?" It was Ursula's turn to be impressed. Mr. Li drew himself up with pride and smiled. "Personally;" his eyes twinkled with pleasure. "My father used to wash his clothes for him before he died." At this point Sam began to wonder if this stranger was becoming too familiar with his sheila, but he was not rude. "Ursula and I will be over at the Pizza Hut," he told him. "If we meet at Church, can we talk about our Hollywood connections over lunch with Mrs. Li?" Mr. Li was far from offended, being almost grateful that Sam had even gotten the last name right, and assured him that he would help them find the best food in town if Church was where they met. "Clothes will be ready by 5PM," he concluded graciously. They thanked him and made their way across the street.

Now that they were in private, Sam's first priority was to correct Ursula's misconception. "Law School Graduates have to pass the BAR," he supplied. "it's a common misconception." Ursula regarded him quizzically. Although Sam truly seemed to think that this was in the answer category of conversational gambits, it seemed to her to raise more questions than it could possibly answer in its present form. She asked him to make their order for a deep dish supreme, with extra cheese while she thought about it.

The misconceptions Sam might be trying to correct were several, and she listed them on a napkin:
- Law School Graduates might be inveterate alcoholics.
- The "degree" to which she had alluded might be conferred by a Bar Association, rather than a University. If so, this might be the official reason the degree in question was called a BA.
- The relevant certification that Tommy Lee Jones possessed was something else supplied by Bar Associations, and not a BA at all.
- Tommy Lee Jones might possess a BA, and not yet have completed his original intentions of obtaining the relevant certification.

She furrowed her brows. That was all she could think of, but, rather than exhaust herself by trying to be exhaustive, she decided that this was adequate cannon fodder. Upon his return with food and Fosters her animosity faded. She chose her wording carefully, and made sure she had his attention while she asked him, "Have Tommy's drinkin' buddies from Travis' county ever forced him to write a confession out about what the local Better Business Bureau thinks about the Bar in question OR are you trying to tell me Mr. Jones never passed?" Sam's gaze returned to eye level, and she briefly wondered if he would like to be the father of twins, such was his libido. It was his turn to ponder, and she dug in, the Fosters quenching a very real thirst. For his part, he felt like he had been sand-bagged by her change of subject, and his first priority now was to remember exactly what she had said. To assist his memory he wrote a question mark on his own napkin, so he would not forget that the remark had been in the interrogative voice.

She was not yet married, and he wondered if her ability to conceive such knotty questions was part of the reason. She had not made enough of these misconceptions to qualify as a pattern of behavior, and so he turned his attention back to the content of her wording. After a moment's consideration he was pretty sure she didn't know the name of the thing that the Bar Association conferred; it was different from Mr. Jones' degree. He took a deep breath and began to run the gauntlet. "He DID pass. Travis' and Tommy's mutual drinkin' buddies wouldn't be caught dead talkin' to the local Better Business Bureau, and the Bar in question serves the County, but not in the capacity of a drinking establishment. They issue Barristers' Licenses, and THAT is what Tommy Lee does NOT HAVE!" he finished triumphantly.

Her pride in his accomplishment approached his own, such was her affection for him. "I feel like you REALLY took the trouble to LISTEN," she praised him. "I don't have mine either." Sam blushed with pride, and he sucked his gut in and stuck out his chest without even thinking. "I think I'll be needing a banana too... I love cheese, but find it very binding." At some level Sam observed that she had been more polite than _he_ would have been under the same circumstances, and he rejoined with a question of his own. "What all do you USE bananas for?"

It was her turn to teach, and she delighted at his True Texan humility. "well, the Pectin they provide helps keep you regular as I just observed and they have potassium for muscle cramps. Other than that, I can personally observe that they give me indigestion; I'd rather have banana pudding." "MmHm," he agreed. "My University Professor used to go on and on about the predilection Monkeys have for 'em," he added, explaining his question. "I used to tell him 'Food is Food, no matter if you're a Man or a Mouse.' He used to cuss up a blue streak right after that. He didn't use normal swear words, but his favorite other kind of swear word was 'phallic.' I think I called him a mouse more than anything." She beamed her understanding with a smile. "Some people just don't understand," she empathized.

They finished their meal with cheesecake all around; Cherry for her, Strawberry for him, and set off for the Cleaners. "Ever been to Lexington?" she asked him. He didn't recall ever having been and, being footloose, they decided to visit there next since hunting until Valentine's was off the menu.