Picky, Picky

Winslow didn't even acknowledge the presence of the Hispanic attendant who proceeded him out of the front entrance and flagged down a taxi for him. But after Winslow stiffly folded himself into the back seat of the cab and had made a sour remark about the immigrants who were driving the service cars those days, the attendant rose to his full height and flipped the departing taxi the bird. Flashing a big grin, he slowly pulled a moist and pungent Casa Blanca Jeroboam cigar out of his shirt pocket, lit it, and walked slowly back into the entrance to the world of the First Gentlemen's Covenant Club.