Honk! Beep! Honk! The traffic on 66th Street, though at a dead standstill, hummed with activity. People chattering and milling about, car horns blaring. “Is this place usually this crowded?” Stan asked the limo driver. “It’s usually crowded,” he answered. “Just not this crowded.” “What’s everybody here for?” Stan peered at the folks lined along the sidewalk, cordoned off by several police, three on horseback, NYPD emblazoned on their blue vests. “They’re here for you, sir,” the driver smiled as if it was a silly question. “Don’t you watch the news? You’re something of a big deal, you know?” Stan rubbed his eyes. “I guess I am, aren’t I? I spend so much time working, I don’t even get to watch TV.” “Well, you should,” the driver pulled into ABC studio’s basement parking garage, a half dozen camera flashes as they crossed the sidewalk. “You going on a whirlwind tour?” “That’s what my agent says. Three talk shows, five interviews, coffee with a bazillion TV execs, and that’s just before lunch,”
