The man shudders inwardly at this and tries to loop the conversation around to his needs at hand. “Oh, no, actually, I’m not going in. No, see, my car won’t start, that’s all. I’m stuck and I was wondering if you might …”

“You were inside earlier, though, correct?” The older man studies him, waiting for his answer.

The man pauses for a second, so used to lying about most things that he has to stop and think before responding. “Umm, yeah, I mean … for a minute. I was seeing a friend and we stopped in for a drink, but …”

“Then you know what I’m talking about. One of those young women had the ass of a schoolgirl—an actual girl who attends public school—and I’m not exaggerating. I’m too old for that!”

“Right. Yes, I think I did see one girl up there who was, you know … obviously young.”

“Indeed she was. Yes, indeed-y.”

“Yeah. Anyhow, do you think I could ask you something? Just a quick thing. My car is right over there and it’s dead as a … battery’s totally drained. Do you think you could … ?”

The older man holds up one gloved hand and wags his finger, stopping him before he can get to the other side of his question. Shuts him down completely.

“I’m waiting for a cab.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, at eleven-thirty sharp. I always say that to them, when I order one. ‘Sharp.’”

“Huh, that’s …”

“It’s a regular service that I use, on the weekends. Quite efficient, really, and fairly clean as well, which is a plus.”

“Okay, well, thanks anyway,” says the man as he tries to disengage now. Headlights are approaching.

“And here it is, as promised!” notes the older man, checking his watch just to be sure. “Perfect.”

“I don’t mind sharing, if that helps out in some way.”

“Umm, that’s nice, thanks, but I need to …”

“Cuts the cost in half, you know. That’s quite reasonable.”

“No, yes, I get that part. I understand, I do, but I need my car. For, you know, work in the morning and all.”

“Fine, then. I’ll say good night.” The octogenarian executes a strange little half bow and climbs inside the red and white Crown Victoria. The man is almost into the entrance alcove when he realizes the opportunity that is slipping away. He turns and dashes back toward the taxi, signaling for the driver to roll down his window, but the driver—obviously a legal resident in a country outside these United States—shakes a finger at him and then gestures, inexplicably, up toward the heavens. Floors it and disappears into the darkness. The man stands still as a fine cloud of dust drifts toward him, unable to decipher what has just transpired here. It would take a slew of UN interpreters and then some to make heads or tails out of that exchange.