The Strong Dollar Felt Great, and Then It Didn't

"Where are you from?" asked the waiter at Ølsen, an absolutely beautiful restaurant in Buenos Aires's most fashionable neighborhood, Palermo Hollywood.

"New York," I replied.

"Your president's daughter is with that big group over there," he said.

My partner, Adam, and I each strolled to the bathroom, to see which one was her. (No luck.) We looked around for Secret Service agents, only to realize that everyone else probably thought we were the Secret Service agents. After all, we were two men sitting in a corner, our backs to the walls, trying to act cool while staring at the First Daughter's table.

Perhaps we shouldn't have been surprised she was there (if she was there). Not just because the newspaper that morning reported that Barbara Bush's purse had been snatched while she and her sister were out on the town in B.A., but because we were ...