Serendipity

I'm eating a ritzy brunch on the outdoor patio of a ritzy restaurant in a ritzy town. The cars gliding down the ritzy street are all new and expensive and the ladies at the next table are wearing ritzy shoes that cost more than what regular folks make in a month. Even my Eggs Benedict are ritzy. I don't know whether to feel ritzy myself or economically inadequate to the point of suicide.

"How's your food?" my date, a classy brunette, asks.

"Expensive," I mumble through a piece of egg sodden ...