“We don’t allow Mexicans in this hotel,” she said. “I’m not a Mexican. I got that title after the fable. You know: ‘And the little dog laughed to see such sport.’” “Nor Jews,” she said. I registered. I had a beautiful signature in those days, intricate, oriental, illegible, with a mighty slashing underscore, a signature more complex than that of the great Hackmuth. And after the signature I wrote, “Boulder, Colorado.”
