We took an early breakfast at Barney Greenglass--a whitefish/sturgeon appetizer with bialy. But once you've been to Russ and Daughters, Barney's is really second-rate. We cabbed down to the East Village and took Josie out to the park. She had had a bad night, throwing up twice with her cold, and she conked right out before we could get into the swings.

Andy & Neal joined us for a wonderful brunch at Dish, right down the street on Allen. Josie continues her love of intense food and loves nothing more than sucking on a lemon in each hand.

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We went back to the East Village apartment and hung around.

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A limo took us to JFK, where our non-stop Delta/Alitalia flight wasn't bad at all. Security was very high. Do I look like a terrorist? At the check-in counter, a security guard singled me out for a bag inspection. He went through everything, opening my electric razor, going through every pocket. He handed me a leaflet, explaining why it was necessary, in the name of homeland security, to do this. I didn't want to read the handout and told him I accepted these things as necessary in these times. He said, "You should read it, so you understand. It's the law." I didn't read it, but reached down and noted that he had zipped up my bag so that the zippers were on the side. I wanted them on top, where there is less chance that they will open, and I moved them together to the top position. He picked up the bag, placed it on the counter, and said, "Now we have to do it again." I told him I didn't open the bag, just repositioned the zippers. He said, "I have to do it. Those are the rules." I said, "Harry Houdini couldn't have slipped anything in there." He said, "You'd be surprised how many Houdinis there are out there," and handed me the leaflet to read. Thank you, Tom Ridge. Thank you, John Ashcroft.

On board the 767, there was no legroom to speak of, but we did have two seats by the window. Farklempt tried his hardest to get an upgrade, ministering to a Sicilian woman  with gastroenteritis in the waiting area, telling her in Italian to call for the doctor on the plane, but the flight was full, and she must have either recovered or died. The movie was The Transporter, an action-filled karate thriller with great car chases and kung-fu moments throughout. In fact, there was nothing else in it. Best movie I ever saw in my life. Five Farklempt Stars. The food on the plane was good--more than good. Of course, they even have Campari and soda, but they charge for drinks. We even got a few hours sleep.