Im still getting used to this whole interview thing, says John Oliver. I guess Im not jaded yet.
Were seated across from one another in the second-floor cafeteria of HBOs New York headquarters, just a stones throw from Bryant Park. Its a disorienting pastiche of pastel green and pink booths separated from the buffet area by wavy metal dividers; like Edward Hopper meets an Under the Sea themed 80s prom. And then theres Oliver, dressed incognito in a gray pullover and Mets cap obscuring his forehead. He looks like any other thorny New Yorkeruntil the 37-year-old opens his mouth and proclaims his Britishness.