had come in with. Now I was alone with the captain. He smiled a thin Frog smile at me, then took out
a pack of Swiss cigarettes. He lit one up and started calmly blowing smoke rings. Then he did some
sort of amazing trick with the smoke—letting a dense cloud of it escape his mouth and then sucking it
up right through his own nose in two thick columns. Wow! Even in my current position I found it
impressive. I mean, I had never even seen my father do that, and he wrote the book on smoking tricks!
I would have to ask him about that if I ever made it out of this room alive.
Finally, after a few more smoke rings and a bit more nasal inhaling, the captain said, “Well, Mr.
Belfort, I apologize for any inconvenience you would have suffered from this unfortunate
misunderstanding. The stewardess has agreed not to press charges. So you are free to go. Your friends
would be waiting for you outside, if you wish to follow me.”
Huh? Could it be that simple? Had the Swiss bankers bailed me out already? Just to speculate! The
Wolf of Wall Street—bulletproof, once more!
My mind was relaxed now, free from panic, and it went roaring right back to Franca. I smiled
innocently at my new Swiss friend and said, “Since you keep talking about wishes and such, what I
would really wish is if somehow you could put me in touch with that stewardess from the plane.” I
paused and offered him my Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing smile.
The captain’s face began to harden.
Oh, shit! I lifted my hands, palms facing him, and said, “Of course, only for the purposes of making
a formal apology to the young blonde—I mean, the young lady—and perhaps to make some sort of
financial restitution, if you know what I mean.” I fought the urge to wink.
The Frog cocked his head to one side and fixed me with a look that so much as said, “You are one
demented bastard!” But all he said was, “We would wish you not to contact the stewardess while you
are in Switzerland. Apparently she is…how would you say it in English…she is…”
“Traumatized?” I offered.
“Ah, yes—traumatized. This is the word we would use. We would wish that you please do not
contact her under any circumstances. I have not the slightest doubt that you will find many desirable
women in Switzerland if that is your goal. Apparently you have friends in the right places.” And with
that, the Captain of Wishes personally escorted me through Customs, without so much as stamping my
passport.
Unlike my plane flight, my limousine ride was quiet and uneventful. That was appropriate. After all, a
bit of peace was a welcome respite from this morning’s chaos. My destination was the famed Hotel Le
Richemond, purportedly one of the finest hotels in all of Switzerland. In fact, according to my Swissbanking
friends, Le Richemond was a most elegant establishment, a most refined establishment.
But upon my arrival I realized that refined and elegant were Swiss code words for depressing and