...how when you go to eat at a restaurant- let's say run by a prominent NYC Italian chef, that the 'man behind the desk' is so rude to you because you are early but then realizes you have those special little letters next to your name that all of the sudden you hear, "Ah yes, Mr. ****** we've been waiting for you" with a grin bigger than Texas. I wonder where that kind demeanour was a moment ago when I walked in as a vagrant off 125th street? (in his eyes of course) . Actually, I would have much rather him been a prick the whole time; at least he would not have to suffer by acting like a phony "oh is there anything else i can get for you?" maitre'd. And it's too bad because the food was wonderful. Just goes to show you.
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