Sancho’s hair was wild and wet, a hurricane mayhem. “Milord, I have a matter of some urgent concern to report,” he said. “I can speak of my own distress, now.” And so Sancho, on the hurricane-ravaged island, told Johnny more of his personal story:
“Once upon a time in flight, I happened to sit in one of those middle sections, nice little girl beside me, child and mom, you know, sweet. Flying from SFO to BCN. Long voyage, my friend, many legs. The mom was some kind of prof at, I believe if my brain cheese is correct, Stanford, data lady of some sort. Short story, the Data Prof was against vaccinating her child, so the child had measles but didn’t show yet. I got measles on the plane from the un-vaxed tot. Doc in Barce said an antiviral would help heal the measles scars.”
He sipped the sh
