07 October 2005

Parking Mad

Irish Bob recently recounted a story to me. He was driving through Manhattan in a sweat because he had an important meeting with one of our more loaded clients and couldn't find a parking place. Looking up toward heaven, he said "Lord, take pity on me. If you find me a parking place I will go to Mass every Sunday for the rest of my life and give up whiskey, ponies and loose women." Incredibly, an open parking place appeared. Irish Bob looked up again.

"Never mind.” He says. “I found one."


And that's the way I likes it.