Perfect Lover
(Copyright held by the author, March 1998) It was the night of The Storm. It hit in March of '93, and the National Weather Service - with their zany, madcap sense of humor - dubbed it the "White Hurricane." I'd been on Aer Lingus out of Shannon, headed for JFK and counting the hours till I was back on terra firma. I was not thrilled to hear that all three New York airports were socked in, and we were diverting to Boston. The good part was that I could take trusty Amtrak back to town. A...