Primo carefully packs the steak and an ice pack in his
suitcase along with a bottle of wine.
"I'll have to check this bag," he says.
He never checks a bag. He always carries his luggage onto
the plane and has packing down to a fine art. He hates waiting. He especially
hates waiting for luggage.
But you cannot carry an ice pack onto a plane. For Sly and
Doris, he checks a bag.
He carries the steak with him for 1,000 miles. He drives it
the 60 miles to Sly and Doris' house in his rental car because they won't pick
him up.
He thaws the steak, he rubs salt on it, he lets it sit, he
covers it with mustard, and he grills it.
Then he sends me this message:
You were right. They
weren't steak-worthy. I cooked the steak tonight, and it was as excellent as I
expected. My mom didn't like it very much and my dad thought it was only
"good" and not wonderful. I shouldn’t have brought it. It was wasted
on them.
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