"Young man," he said in a tone reminiscent of something in an Arnold Schwartzenegger movie, "I will make you a deal" (You know, when the stereotypical evil Arab agrees to let the brave American Arnold go if he works for him and not the CIA). Intrigued, I listened. "I will get you to the airport, and you pay me $30," he said. "Flat rate, no questions." Needlessly melodramatic, I thought, but I said yes to the very good rate. It occurred to me that there were other connections than Harvard ones.
So we chatted about the Nagorno region. He took me through the part of Queens which was predominantly Georgian and recommended several restaurants. We talked about his children. I don't know how we got to the airport with 10 minutes to spare, but we did. Most of the ride had alternated between watching us fly by buildings and cars and Fran Drescher look-alikes and conversing with my excited cab driver. But what I thought would be a worrisome-as-usual trip turned out to be quite interesting. And a first-class seat on the way home? I think I can handle a few bumps in the schedule.
Vasant M. Kamath '02, a Crimson editor, is a government concentrator in Winthrop House. He wanted to write about why Hillary Rodham Clinton should be kicked out of New York, but the National Review took his idea.