I burst out laughing, thinking that she is putting me on, but no, the look in her eye reveals something else, something....pathologically wrong. The conversation goes on, from one bizarre disconnected statement to another, and always she has something to complain about. I finally notice the bartender giving me the hairy "you are talking to an insane, yet well dressed woman that comes in here all the time" eyeball. I get the message. I get back to my postcards. I write "New York City, just like I pictured it. Skyscrapers and everything". Next