Seth said he wanted something different for dinner than could be found in Montana. So, after being told Seth was staying at The Gem Hotel on 8th Avenue and 22nd, Mack suggested Uncle Nick’s, a Greek restaurant in Chelsea, not far from the hotel.
“This is a pretty nice place,” Seth said as they were seated at one of the balcony tables that overlooked the main floor of the restaurant.
“Glad ya approve,” Mack said with a smile.
Seth looked across the table at his old friend. “Ya haven’t changed a bit,” he said.
Mack laughed. “Your eyesight must be failin’ ya. I’m thirty-five years older than when you last laid eyes on me.”
“Well, you haven’t changed that much. Have I?” Seth asked.
Mack looked closely at the man still dressed in cowboy gear. “You’re older, and you’re balder—”
“Hey,
