The elevator stopped on the third floor. A large green suitcase on rolls entered, pushed by a tiny woman wearing a red business suite. The lady asked me to hold the door, as she went back to get an even larger suitcase and a matching bag. In the few seconds we were in the elevator, she told me that she lived overseas, which happened to be Warsaw, and once we switched to Polish, hers was so heavy on the American side, that I did not believe her when the door opened again. And out went the huge bags and the tiny lady with jet black hair. It took me a while to leave the elevator and to realize that she might not have been a really Polish lady with an American accent, but an excellent speaking American lady living in Poland. I guess three floors are not enough to get to know anybody in any proper way.