I was leaning casually against the wall watching the successful in the sexual sphere, as in all others, segregate themselves from the failures. Across from me stood a gorgeous blond, struggling to ignite her cigarette with a broken lighter. Thinking of "To Have and Have Not," and realizing that I have not, I strolled up to her, sparked the gas, cupped my hand to protect the flame while being ever-so careful not to smother it. I startled her a bit, but lit the cigarette. She inhaled deeply, paused, and exhaled a cloud of smoke that magically rose up and away from her. Starring at me with a slightly raised eyebrow and a smirk that showed just enough teeth, she spoke, "So you must be Humphrey Bogart?" I smiled and replied, "Only if you'll be Loren Bacall."