Thomas Flanagan

I just had dinner with Thomas Flanagan, a drunk Irish homeless man. The accent was very difficult to work through, all things considered. I initially thought he was Russian.

He served in the war and, like his Hungarian friend, suffered under the communists. He's scared about the North Koreans, and fears for his son in Japan, though his two daughters should be OK. He promised to pay me back the money that I gave him, but I said it was OK. He gave me his number just in case, and its sitting here in front of me, scribbled on a torn-off piece of Filet-o-Fish box.

Hope he does OK.