The Importance of Being a Dad

I wrote my father that I would be in New York between trains and asked if we could have lunch together. His secretary said he would meet me at the information booth at 12 o'clock sharp. He was a big, good-looking man, and I was terribly happy to see him again. We went out of the station and up a side street to a restaurant. It was still early, and the place was empty. The bartender was quarreling with a delivery boy,. There was one very old waiter in a red coat down by the kitchen door. My father began to shout: "We'd like two bibs gee-feeders"