[pshrynk]

Howard Hughes brought his plane in for a landing in Havana Bay. There was a short flurry of excitement as the dock workers thought they were going to be treated to a spectacular plane crash, but when the plane proved to be floatable, they went back to work. The plane taxied up to the private docks that held assorted saling yachts. Hughes jumped out and tied the plane to the mooring.

"There's something you don't see every day," said one of the dock workers.

"You mean a flying boat? It's my latest design. I figure that we will be able to sell them as commuter transportation along coastal areas. Los Angeles is particularly crowded these days and the car traffic is murder! Why it took me twentyfive minutes to get from Holywood to Downtown last week!"

"I was actually thinking that it's pretty rare to see some rich guy tying up his own boat. Usually they have lackeys to do that."

"Well my copilot bailed out over New Mexico."

Hughes jumped back into the plane and gathered his bags. He then went to the cockpit and turned the autopilot off off off off off! Bracing himself, he backed away and tried to forget the past three hundred miles of whining and despair. The M.A.R.V.I.N. had done some complaining, as well...

Back on the dock, he hailed a cab, driven, oddly enough, by a woman.

"Can you take me to El Casino del Rey?'

"You going to get in on the big poker tournament?" the cabby asked.

In the back seat, Hughes started coughing.