They seldom stop at Rome's elegant Hotel Excelsior, nor do they drink at the Ritz Bar in Paris. In London, they would not dream of dining at Claridge's.
More likely they will traipse off to the Neptune, a tiny Soho seafood house operated without frills by Sam Abrahams, who formerly peddled jellied eels from an East End pushcart. The first time a bunch of budget Baedekers swarmed into his place, Sam "couldn't understand where all the Americans came from." Today, however, Sam is well aware that nearly all of his Stateside customers brandish...
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