Flight to New York
"Yah," screamed Angelo, "I'm on a first class flight to New York with a Manhattan in my hand . . . Yah, I know. Funny thing, right?"
I looked at him to test once and for all whether looks could kill. Unfortunately, it looked like no. It was a rough flight. New York seemed like a million miles away, though it wasn't quite that far, I guess.
Then he made another call. "Yah, I'm on a first class flight to New York with a New Yorker magazine under my arm and a sick bag on my knees. Yah, I know."
Sometimes I just don't get people.