John didn’t dance even though strongly pressured by the Georgians, but especially enjoyed the wine. He began having intense conversations with three women, one the daughter of a big seemingly important bald man. The atmosphere was beginning to seem disconcerting.
My Georgian friend gave me an expression with his eyes that verified my sense of trouble. I pulled John to our table and said “Please sit down”. Now the big man and his daughter were coming to our table, pulled up chairs and sat down with serious expressions. I don’t know a thing about what was expressed in that long Georgian pontification but I knew keenly the way to the door. After some peacekeeping gestures to the Georgian I insistently pressed the Brit toward the door with him exclaiming “What’s wrong”. I don’t know what was wrong, but I do know that the Americans rescued the Brits once again.
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