Like the plane that had brought him to America, it had enough space to relax him. And he liked being underground. He didn't mind stretch limos as much...either for similar spatial reasons, though the more stretched the better. Buses weren't too horrible unless crowded. Cars made him feel like being inside a steel trap about to be crushed or buried, sort of a rolling coffin.Fortunately the house situated just on the other side of Fort Lee from the George Washington Bridge, along with his brisk. There was a sputtering neon sign that was only half illuminated and the name of the bar was unintelligible. I went inside and sat at the end of the bar, so I could see the whole interior. Music played from the dimly lit rear of the establishment. Some smooth jazz. There were a couple people dancing, moving slowly to the quiet beat, I ordered a scotch with water on the side and slowly sipped the amber liquid feeling the smooth warmth flowing through my body. I drank one and then another, feeling. More

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