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October 2002
Godfather IV
I've never acted a day before in my life and I've already been typecast.
The path to this enlightenment began as I stood in the galley of an
airplane waiting for an airsick passenger to emerge from the can. It
was Kentucky Derby weekend and I was on my way to Churchill for a few
days of betting the ponies. I was fortunate to have a horse I was a
partner in running on Derby day, not in the big race, but between the
Twin Spires, just as well.
Tired of waiting without a cocktail, I turned to an attractive twenty-something
stewardess and asked her for a Scotch and soda. "New York?"
she rasped at me. "Originally," I volleyed back. "New
Jersey!" she said with familiar passion and the placing of a soft
hand on my shoulder.
"I miss people like you," she whispered. We talked for about
three and a half airline bottles of Chivas (on the house, of course).
Every time I threw out a Brooklyn-like "deese" or "dose"
she would squeal with orgasmic delight with an occasional "Ohhhh
myyyyy Goddddd" thrown in for East Coast effect. She named every
Vinny from South Edison to Bensonhurst, positive that I would know one
or two of them. We hit some turbulence and the pilot announced that
everyone would have to be seated and locked in. "That doesn't mean
you," she said as she poured me another libation. When another
stewardess protested, Gina (as she had now reminded me ninety times)
took her to the side and growled in her ear. Moments later, stewardess
number two came back to apologize in a please-don't-kill-me manner and
a half curtsy.
Before we parted, Gina wrote her name (as if I'd forget) and her number
on a napkin and, without thought, slipped it deep into the pocket of
my slacks. After a few minutes back at my seat, I heard another climax-like
yelp from the back of the plane. Within seconds, Gina was planted next
to me, hand caressing my chest, explaining how her father was great
friends with David Chase, creator of The Sopranos. And how she was sure,
although I wouldn't know stage left if you buried a body there, that
if I had one sit-down with him, he'd hire me on the spot. "Who
knows," she said, devising plot lines, "you could be in the
pack Christopher runs with, maybe whack someone." Then she wished
me luck with my horse and was gone.
As we made our initial approach, I perused the Daily Racing Form. A
gentleman across the aisle, about 60, wearing a Member's Only jacket,
a silver comb-over and smelling like Old Spice leaned over and tapped
me on the arm. "Hey," he said cautiously, "couldn't help
overhearing that you've got word on somethin' tomorrow. Somethin' called
in? You know, I have a friend who played Little League with Castellano
back in the day."
At the baggage claim, a yellow beehive approached me and said, "Sorry
to disturb you, sir, but Harry from 23B says you have the winner in the
fifth tomorrow."
So I have dark hair, dark eyes and I say my O's with an "awww"
sound. So I like to listen to Dino when I make my sauce. I like to listen
to Mr. Sinatra and drink a full-bodied Barolo when I eat my pasta. Yeah,
my idea of the perfect day is Godfather I and II, Goodfellas, a bottle
of Sambuca and a classy goumada by my side. You got a problem with that?
You wanna take it outside?
Yeah, I've known guys who had middle names like "The Hat"
or "The Lip" or "The Slim". These men felt inclined
to hug me every time I was in their company and I've felt the unmistakable
jab to the ribs that didn't come from any wallet or cigarette lighter
in their suit jacket pocket. I played poker with these guys and raised
a glass to their ailing mothers, uncles, aunts, whatever. That bother
you? Didn't think so.
I wear Armani as a nighttime uniform, drive fast cars, have been known
at times to wear flashy jewelry and I sported a pinkie ring for a couple
of years. I believe in Omerta as a credo and a sign of respect. You
talkin' to me? Well, are ya, ya bastid'?
Still, I don't understand the typecasting. Since I moved west I've
had at least a dozen people ask me if I was in the Witness Protection
Program.
I only heard from Gina once more. She had a seven-hour layover and
wanted to know if I had some, you know "time". But the boys
needed me to take care of a thing, and well, you know how that is.
I never did hear from HBO or anyone associated with The Sopranos.
But, Mr. Chase, if you're out there, Gina says I'm ready for my close-up.
Enjoy the Issue,
Richard Botto,
Editor in Chief / CEO of RAZOR Magazine - The Definitive Men's Lifestyle Magazine
www.razormagazine.com
