Randjack, please watch the language. I went on this date once. I took a tall jewish looker named Lisa Silverman hot air ballooning over the California wine country. Our 'ship's captain' was this old Prussian who looked like Adolph Galland and I know the outline under his starched shirt was an iron cross. What I remember most, aside from Lisa nibbling on my earlobe was this bandolier of bics on his chest reminiscent of Emiliano Zapata. He said they were redundant backups in case of a flameout. I had visions of the Hindenberg disaster, the captain looked far off into the horizon no doubt remembering faster flights in a BF-262 and Lisa just kept nibbling my ear. Helmut eventually retired back to Dusseldorf, Lisa wisely married a Doctor instead of an archaeologist and I fondly look at bics and feel this nerve permanently damaged in my right earlobe twitching. <img src="/images/graemlins/grin.gif" alt="" />