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Down South

I was the Vice-President of the American nuclear scientific society and for one year I had the task of visiting U.S. sections of our society as well as foreign societies around the world to provide information and encouragement in our work of promulgating nuclear science and medicine.

I was inducted into my post at our annual June conference in New Orleans. The weather was oppressively hot and humid and most conference attendees cowered in the hotel's air-conditioned comfort. During the business day, we all dispensed with business clothes. Shorts and casual shirts were de rigor.

Moreover, since I was a runner, I ran along the Mississippi with friends once a day in sweat-soaked shorts and singlet. It was summer and we did what we had to do to stay comfortable and to complete our business. Despite the humidity, New Orleans was fun in the summer.

At the end of the conference week everyone left for home and regular businesses but, whereas I would normally have returned to my office in Denver, Colorado, the first job of my new position was to travel south to speak at another conference in Buenos Aires, Argentina.

I had never visited Buenos Aires so I was looking forward to the opportunity of visiting new places. It would be especially interesting since I am British and the Falklands' war had just been won. I wondered what my reception by the Argentineans would be like since a thousand of their naval ranks had died needlessly.

I boarded the plane and traveled by night to Buenos Aires' Ezeiza International airport. I was dressed in shorts and a golfing shirt for a relaxed journey.

When we arrived in the morning and disembarked by jet-way it felt a little cool but I thought nothing of it. It was very pleasant. Then, as I passed through immigration to the customs hall, I noticed a uniformed chauffeur holding up a placard with my name. My hosts had come to meet me. How nice, I thought.

The chauffeur looked at me a little curiously and smiled broadly. I didn't speak much Spanish beyond "Buenos diaz" so after a little sign language, I was given to understand that my luggage would be collected for me and my hosts would be waiting at the limousine outside.

So they were, two men and a woman waiting at the curb. They were each wearing a heavy fur coat. The lady's version looked as though it were ermine and the men seemed to wearing bear.
Of course, I had forgotten. It was now winter in the southern hemisphere.

Standing there in shorts and a golf shirt being greeted formally

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