“Fuck you!” I jumped to my feet and swirled around the table toward the door. I had had enough of this bullshit. Wasted half a day! I knew Barry couldn't stop me. He was too small, and he was an American. I wasn't. Having grown up as a Jew in the urban jungle in the Soviet days, my affliction with American civilities was purely superficial. Expecting some meek resistance, I was ready to shove Barry out of the way, when I was suddenly and inexplicably stopped dead in my track by his hand on my shoulder, his calm and friendly expression and especially his firm, “Sit down in that chair” which cut right through, it seemed, all the way down to my motor control center in the brain or something. Obviously something went very wrong. What the hell is this? I thought, bewildered.