By Peter Rosengard, August 21, 2008
A few days ago, I was eating breakfast at The Regency ("Home of the Power Breakfast") Hotel in New York.
At the next table was a bald, middle-aged man in glasses, in a dark grey T-shirt and black shirt jacket reading The New York Times.
"Larry!" I said.
He didn't look up.
He looked up.
I smiled and leant towards him, my hand outstretched.