I grew up in the New York area where the expression was, “I know a guy.” If you had fifty parking tickets that suddenly caught up with you and the police were threatening jail, if you knew the right guy it could be worked out. Whatever it was, whatever you needed, there was always a guy who could take care of it.
      It’s the same everywhere, except of course in a place like Tweedledum Indiana, where the only guy around is the mayor and he’s a putz and can’t get the deal done. That’s why people in those places turn to religion. It’s the frustration. So they go to church and try to get to the one guy that everybody is trying to reach at the same time. No wonder so many Americans carry guns.
      So what does this have to do with the weather clearing enough for an airplane to land on a little Greek island, swoop us up and fly us to Athens in time to catch our flight to Madrid and avoid losing wads of money?
      See … in Ikaria I know a guy. I meet him in the parking lot of the airport, in the far corner near the wind sock.

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