It was one of those tiny events that make us realize how old we are. It had been twelve years since I had last seen Verbal Kint and his hair was showing silver… But there was the same hint of a smile and point-piercing eyes that were unmistakable. There was no way to avoid him, so I shifted past bodies and carry-ons in the airport bar. He spoke first.
“You know what really pisses me off about Gonzalez?” He nodded to the silent TV showing C-Span.
“His jaw-dropping stupidity?”
“Get this. He’s not Hispanic at all! That’s another of Rove’s ploys to get votes. His parents are from South Dakota. He’s Oglala Sioux.” My childhood friend gave me a quick hug and gestured for me to join him.