“You said,” Sklarski supplied, “that whenever you were coming down with a cold, you always tried to curl up on a couch for a few hours with an African.”
Laughter renewed.
McNiff’s eyes darted confusedly from one to another of his confreres. “It helps,” he explained in bewilderment.
“I’ll bet.” Sklarski guffawed, and spilled his drink.
“C’mon,” Koesler said, “it’s getting late.” On the way home, he would explain the difference between African and afghan and hope that McNiff did not become so testy he would get flip with an officer at the border. Koesler did not want to spend this night justifying his existence to customs officials.
Koesler was positive that any given moment, customs officials could out-testy even McNiff.
Eminence Page 35
