I’ve been an Ian Fleming aficionado since I was a teenager back in the 1960s, as well as fan of the James Bond films, especially the 1960s films starring Sean Connery as Bond.
Gaeton, a big and rugged guy I grew up with, was also a fan of the Bond films, but I could never get him to read the Fleming novels.
Like me, he strived to be as cool and suave as James Bond, but we both failed to varying degrees in that nearly impossible task.
I recall Gaeton telling me about his dinner date with a girl he called “classy.”
He took her to a high-priced restaurant, hoping to impress her and show how sophisticated he was.
That impression failed at the door of the restaurant.
“Good evening, Sir. A table for how many?” The maître d asked Gaeton.
“What?”
“A table for how many?”
Gaeton looked at his pretty and classy date and pointed at his chest.
“I don’t know,” he replied. “I can’t count this high either.”
Gaeton and his date were showed to a good table thanks to the $20 he slipped the maître de. They sat down and ordered dinner. Gaeton told his date that money was no object, so she could order whatever she wanted.
An impatient man, Gaeton saw a waiter walk by his table a few minutes later, and he called him over.
“Excuse me, but are you the waiter who took our order?”
“Yes, Sir,” the waiter said.
“Funny, you don’t look a day
older.”
The wine waiter then came to the table and without looking at a menu, Gaeton ordered a bottle of Dom Perignon champagne, the favorite drink of his hero James Bond.
“Very good, Sir. What year?”
“This year – now!”
Gaeton told me he was surprised when the girl refused to return his phone calls.
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