And you knew, right away, that Swami was a phony from Flatbush.
The Swami seemed to sense the impatience, or it might have been coincidence.
This was probably not typical of the Swami's usual audience composition.
The Swami was an obvious phony of the baldest fakery, yet he had something.
"Float me over that ash tray there on the desk," I said casually to the Swami.