A decade ago, I was flying from Boston Logan to Long Island MacArthur airport. At the gate in Long Island, I stood next to Tom Wolfe at the plane’s door. He was resplendent in a white suit and matching vest, white shirt and black tie, and he was wearing spats over black shoes; a splendid ensemble.
While standing next to him and searching for something to say, as I couldn’t let this opportunity pass, I ask, ” I suppose Daisy is picking you up in the yellow car?”
He returned an icy stare as I had obviously said something that didn’t please him. He quickly forgot about me, but I can’t forget about him. A Man in Full, no doubt.