A slightly yellow-livered young gent from Long Island
succeeded in evading the draft by convincing the eye doctor that
he couldn't see properly ten paces ahead of him.
That very night he was seated contentedly in the very last row of
the huge Radio City Music Hall, and, to his horror, found the
very same eye doctor seated next to him eyeing him very coldly.
The young man thought fast. "Pardon me, doctor." he said with a slight
tremor in his voice. "Could you tell me if I am on the right bus for Jamaica?"