Harvey Keitel

Source: Bigstock

The evening was not only great fun, it also had some zany moments at the end. On my way out with my friend Chuck Pfeifer—a double Silver Star winner in Vietnam—a man accosted me and in an aggressive manner demanded to know if I were an Iraqi. I answered him that however impossible it was to accomplish it, he should go and reproduce himself. He made a move, so I put up my dukes and told him to go ahead and throw the first one. “Repeat what you said.” “Go and fuck yourself!” Nothing. But he gave the game away as Chuck and I walked away by calling me a Greek shit. Fighting at my age should be against any doctor’s orders, but there are always wise guys who don’t like it when someone else is having a good time. Asking hard questions of famous people doesn’t endear one either.

So I awarded myself a present that I picked out from an ad at the dear old Spectator, an ad that appears next to this column. A beautiful but very inexpensive Cobra & Bellamy antique watch—they never go out of style—delivered to my New York address in a beautiful package. The lady who answered the telephone could not have been more polite, and the watch is beautiful and works like a dream. You see the good things that happen when one drinks after training?