Driving back from the cemetery, my brother's Garmin GPS brought us into Manhattan, where - believe it or not - the device became confused. I was driving, it was raining, and I said, "Screw this, it may not be the fastest way, but hang on, I'm gonna shoot over to the FDR Drive ."
In doing so, however, I got stuck behind cars that seemed to be making their own rules as they did a left turn at 43rd Street onto 1st Avenue. Oh, but then I realized why - diplomat plates on the vehicles. And then I realized I was in front of the United Nations, where there were about fifty NYPD squad cars assigned to sit outside and keep the barbarians at bay - excepting those barbarians inside.
What a waste of time for those cops. What a waste of prime East River real estate for New York City. Making sure that Patrick was not looking, my brother flipped the edifice the bird as we drove by. Hey, it was just a Noo Yawk salute.
And yes, my brother and I then proceeded to indoctrinate Patrick and explain why the United Nations is a useless and parasitic organization. So sue me.
 Anything said by me should be read with a New York accent. As soon as I get off da plane, old speech patterns come back and I'm tawkin' like I nevuh left . . . yoo want I drive? Lemme drive . . . meeeeee, did yoo just see what that jerk did? Yer byootiful, baby, yoo know that? Wheredja get yuh f***ing license, ya moron? Yeah, I'm honkin' at yoo, I'm honkin'!