Speak Up

Forget ringing cell phones. Last fall my younger brother introduced me to a new way to harass fellow passengers. On the ride in from Los Angeles International Airport, as he whizzed through traffic with my husband and me in tow, he suddenly began barking like a G-rated Tourette's sufferer: "Entertainment." Pause. "Restaurants." Pause. "Hollywood." Pause. Bleary-eyed from jet lag after our flight from Hong Kong, my husband and I exchanged confused glances. "Call!" Eric bellowed. The routine repeated itself until Eric pulled up at a trattoria moments before closing.

Over a tomato, basil and...

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