I put the envelope into my inner pocket and said, "The pleasure has been all mine. It was delightful meeting you and I hope we'll cross paths in the future."

Her left eyebrow arched up and she asked, "Aren't you going to count it?"

"Not necessary. Thanks." Once again, I was on my way.

Stepped outside, strongly felt the passage of time at this point but had one more thing to do before heading home. Two, actually.

Grabbed another cab and told the driver two stops, the first at 5th Avenue and 46th Street.

There are two stops that I always try to make when in the Apple. One is JR Cigars. For the longest time I considered smoking, any type of smoking, to be a filthy habit. Then, several years back, I discovered that I had a long lost brother that I not only had not met but didn't even know existed. Actually, he's a half brother. Believe it or not, he's British. More about that another time. The reason that I even mention him is that it was Connor that initiated me into the joys of cigar smoking.

I had the driver pull down 46th Street about a hundred feet and told him to wait. He gave me a skeptical look. I ran into JR's, found what I was looking for and grabbed three Gran Habanos, 6 X 6 °Corojo. Paid the cashier, stuffed the cigars into my pocket and found the cabbie still waiting.

Next stop, The Village. We're rolling down 5th… I pull the phone out and check the train schedule. Once again, I can't help wondering what is going on and even how I'm involved. Doesn't matter, I'll find out soon enough.

The driver drops me at 119 MacDougal Street. It's nice enough that people are eating outside. I, on the other hand, have always enjoyed the cafe’s interior. It's already late afternoon and I'm anxious to get on with the rest of the day.

I sit down. A very cute young woman, dressed entirely in black with long black hair down to her waist, asks how she can help me. I order a black coffee and pull out the menu.