I was at a big NYU building on the ground floor. It was located around Bond Street on Mercer. There were 2 pianos there. An upright in the small room for practice and a concert grand Steinway in the big auditorium. The auditorium had 5 long rows of fold up metal chairs. People started filing in. In each seat were pages of text typed on white paper. I did not know what was on the paper, but I did know these people had come for some kind of convention. I warmed up a little bit in the practice room, but not enough. A lady at the secretary desk confided in me. She had just hung up the phone. She said, "That was somebody donating a piano. Unfortunately, it's just an upright and those things are practically worthless. Anything but a grand just gets in the way, but I hated to sound snotty and inappreciative, so I accepted it." I was so envious. I wished somebody would donate a piano to me, but I knew I was not a non-profit organization, so my chances were slim at best. I went in to play for the convention. They were suppose to be impressed that I had been out on the streets and was now playing classical piano, but they just yawned. I stood in front and said, "Hi." I had my music scattered all over the piano. Mozart, Chopin, Beethoven, Debussy and Bach. Two pieces by Bach. Goldberg Variations #1 and #8. I was missing part of Beethoven. I had 2 copies of The Girl with the Flaxen Hair. (La Fille aux Cheveaux de Lin) and Mozart Sonata in C. I wished I had learned page 7. It was beautiful. I had music to [Chopin's Prelude] Opus 28 #7, which I did not know. I had 2 copies of the Debussy. I could not find the rest of the Beethoven. The music was scattered all over the place and I got the pages mixed of music. I couldn't find anything. I started on back. I was getting nervous with the dead silence broken by an occasional person clearing their throat. When I lifted my hands to play they got tangled up in the electric cord (white) attached to the lamp on the left end of the piano. It had no shade. It crashed to the floor and broke. I said, "Oops," and kept looking for the right music. After the uncomfortable ordeal I realized my main problem was not organizing the pages and getting the composers together. William came in and said he'd like some authentic Chinese food. He said I could order it take-out or get a cookbook from the library and make it myself. Since we were in the neighborhood, I got a cookbook from the local branch library. But the recipes did NOT seem authentic. There was green apple pie (sour) and (sweet) "vanivalar" ((vanilla)) ice cream sweet. There were pork roll sandwiches with lettuce on them, in 3-D shapes of pigs.