He’d gone into Tiffany’s and into some of the other swank shops. And then into a bank or two, and stared at the treasures of Manhattan.
At this point he looked at Ross. “You know, just being invisible don’t mean all that. How you going to pick up a wad of thousand dollar bills and just walk out the front door with them? Everybody’d see the dough just kind of floating through the air.”
“I came to the same conclusion myself, when I experimented,” Ross said wryly.
He had ridden on the subways…free. He had eaten various food in various swank restaurants. He had even had drinks in name bars, sampling everything from Metaxa to vintage champagne. He was of the opinion that even though he remained invisible for the rest of his years, he’d still stick to bourbon and beer.
* * * *
He had gone d
