Around him, other single eyes pop open, searching for thesource of this unmeditative sound. Max nods and smiles
a wry smile as if to say: This just ain't doin' it forme, folks.
INT. SPARTAN ROOM - TRUMPET - DAY
Max closes the trumpet case and starts chucking hisclothes and books in a knapsack and a small valise. We
notice the Hebrew letter chai on a gold chain around hisneck. His girl friend, BETSY KAHN, overdressed somewhatin an Indian style, endeavors to exercise the inner peaceshe's been pursuing...
I swear to God, you never giveanything enough time! What did
you expect in five days, Max?
Only what they promise in thebrochure: Inner peace, serenity,
and a nice chant that gets rid ofthis rock in my gut. E.S.T., theydo you in a weekend.
I would really appreciate it ifyou wouldn't be terribly glib justnow, Max.
That's okay with Max, who's willing to eschew communication
of all kinds and just finish heaving his stuff inthe valise.
Am I to assume you'll be at theairport in Calcutta a week fromtomorrow?
Impossible to predict, Betsy IleneKahn. Maybe you better give me myticket.
Screw you, Max -- I paid for it!
How many times am I going to letyou walk out on me and come back?
I think only you can answer that,
Betsy Ilene Kahn.
She slaps him.
Do you really think that's anappropriate way to get rid of yourWestern rage, Bets?
She swings at him again. He catches her hand hard in his