A few years back, I was having lunch in a Vietnamese Noodle house..., the kind
of place where the floors are a bit sticky and three or four languages are spoken.
The only other Caucasians in the place were three grand dames that looked like they
just got out of a DAR meeting. After finishing the meal, I dug out my Pipe and
loaded some of Greg's Odyssey, thinking to myself, this ought to get a rise out
of those women. After I'd lit the Pipe and got the bowl going good, one of them
got up and came over to my table. She commented that it was refreshing to have the
complement of my Pipe's room note, while she and her friends were eating, as it
gave them pause to remember when men were men. It just goes to show that you can't
judge a book by the cover.