There’s a certain amount of pride, hopefully not a sinful amount, in being the bigger man, in letting things, even some which have weight and meaning, simply run off your back. Not, however, being a prideful man, I called the Capitol cops and sent my attacker to a dank, fungus-ridden cell.

I’m kinda proud of that.

My phone vibrated while I was there amidst the wreckage of the tiny demonstration, rubbing my bruised mouth and savoring the blood taste which lingered, as if from a minimally brutal dental procedure. Fox had developed a hole in their schedule and wondered if I would be willing to immediately return. I said sure, not mentioning the transportation slight, and hopped on the Metro in reverse.

When I got to the studio, none of the other reps were in attendance.

They were, I was told, on their way. But their limos were stuck in traffic.


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