Pam and I were sitting in a restaurant in the Venetian. We sat by the canal. We watched the gondolas float by and listened to the gondoliers serenade their passengers.

One gondola had a heavier, middle-aged couple. The woman leaned against the man, leaning her head on his shoulder, dreamily gazing at his face. It was easy to imagine her saying in a New York / Brooklyn / New Jersey accent “Oh Harold! This is so romantic.”

“Harold” stared into the distance. His expression somewhere between “How did I wind up here” and “Kill me now.”

The poor bastard.