Mr. Latte in Laos

But nothing happened, I swear:

The pork was succulent, its fat so rich you had to peel it from the wooden skewers. A local guide had told me earlier, "We say the way to keep your husband at home is by the taste of your tongue." I can't imagine there are too many husbands wandering off in Luang Prabang. Mine was busy devouring our dinner, and wasn't going anywhere.

Think of how different The Quiet American would be if Hesser had had the chance to punch up Graham Greene's manuscript.