I got on the plane and as I started down the aisle, I saw the most beautiful woman I had
ever seen. She was just sitting there in seat 5A. I looked at my boarding pass stub and it
read, "5B." I couldn't believe my luck. As I stowed my carry-on in the overhead bin,
settled into my seat, and slid my brief case under 4B, my mind hurried through all of the
possible ways of opening and maintaining a conversation.

It really sounded dumb, but I heard myself say, "Is this your first trip to Europe?" Or
something like that. Maybe it didn't sound so dumb to her, because she replied that her
business took her to Europe quite often. Then she asked if I had been before, and I said,
yes, that my business had taken me to several continents.

"What business are you in?" she asked.
My mind went into high gear again and I said, "I'm a diplomatic courier."
"That's interesting," she observed. "Exactly what does a diplomatic courier do?"
"It's the easiest job in the world. A man comes to my door with a brief case and an
airline ticket plus some foreign currency and hotel reservations. He gives me a password
and sends me to some location near an embassy in some country. Then I'm on my way."

"What's in the brief case?"

"I never know. But when I get to the appointed place someone comes up to me and says
the password and I just give them the briefcase and walk away."

"And then you come home?"

"Not for a few days, usually. The hotel is always booked for two or three days and the
return ticket is open, so I take a little vacation."

"How long are you going to stay this time?"

"Haven't decided yet. What kind of business are you in?"

She smiled and there was a definate twinkle in her eye. "Oh, I'm a *real* diplomatic
courier," she said.

Howard