Jamaica Biltmore: Partners
Tom Greco - grecotom@aol.com
Chapter 1: The City of New Orleans Arlo Guthrie’s song, The City of New Orleans keeps playing over and over in my head, “fifteen cars and fifteen restless riders, three conductors, twenty five sacks of mail”... as the President of Joe’s college drones on and on about the schools pride in winning their first college bowl game. Joe, Phillip, Julie and I have seen the damn trophy more times then a Budweiser commercial during the Super Bowl.            

 A college president should not have an office the size of the football field. He actually has civil war swords littering the walls. If this story goes any further I have the mind to take one off the wall and cut him in half. I’m sure my son would get thrown out of school for that or given an award by the other parents would have made the mistake of wanting to meet the president of this school. Robert Johnson, fifty year old proper southern gentlemen with plastic hair and a potbelly that strains his starched white shirt and college tie, paces the room like a rat on crack.
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