Attending a convention in Boston, Mass. I drew conclusion from evidence that the cabbies delight in seeing if they can get a good old southerner to scream.

This was years ago and my companions at the time also commented on our wild ride to the Ritz Carlton.

Dinner was being served there after our meeting, so we all loaded into the cab as if a carnival ride would smooth an empty stomach.

Upon arrival we then were told that at the Ritz they preferred their patrons remain strangers.

We promptly removed our name tags, somewhat distressed that we had forgotten our names blazoned across our chests.

I can't for the life of me remember what I ordered.

I do remember a distant lady and her duck that she complained too greasy.
I remember lavish bottles of wine and a waiter that seemed to never leave my side.

It seems odd to me that the cab ride was more memorable than my entree from the Ritz.

Was it scallops perhaps?

I know that if I ever return I will document the meal.