I think it was sometime in the Fall of 1965. I was living on York Avenue in New York City in a rather upscale apartment building with a doorman with whom I had a good, jocular relationship. I was leaving this building in the morning to go to work when, in front of the building, our doorman was holding open the back door of a long black limousine. As a prank I entered this car's back seat and sat down as though the doorman was waiting for me ... to the surprise of the doorman, the limo driver, the front-seat passenger and the entourage of those right behind me.
The doorman, his face ashen, quickly grabbed my hand and pulled me back out of the limo ... to the relief of everyone. The intended passengers then entered the car and sped off. The doorman next took me aside and told me who these poobahs were. They were the Cuban delegation to the United Nations including, presumedly a few bodyguards. I then surmised that the front-seat passenger must have also been a bodyguard.
I then quickly realized I had come within inches of becoming an international incident ... with the strong likelihood of being pumped full of Cuban lead.
I gave the doorman a large tip that Christmas.
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