So an addendum is that Oren mumbled and didn't speak clearly to the INS agent. It was 2:30 am I was tired and wanted to get home. Although I am sure that Mr. Mcullaugh, or whatever his name was, was a pleasant chap and we could have long drawn out conversations about Brecht, Shaw or some other wonderous topic, at 2:30 am I just wanted to sleep. Oren, fighting the despair that this country might be going to Hell in the proverbial picknic basket, could only manage to mumble. Ladies and Gents, please just speak clearly to the nice INS officials and they will let you merrily on your way.
The moral of the story is: Terrorists don't live in Buffalo... only Lackawanna
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
12 years ago
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