Outside, he sits cross-legged on a bench to smoke his cigarette, which dangles from the corner of his mouth as he speaks. “We did a field trip to Best Buy in Westwood,” he says. “We all stood at the door and I said, ‘Show me typewriters.’ I typed every college paper I ever wrote about politics and cinema! I said, ‘Show me TVs with tubes in them. Show me videocassettes.’ And they couldn’t.”
In a bit, the students meander up to the food court to eat sushi and sandwiches, Sussman’s treat. “Do any of you like meat? There’s a Lawry’s up there,” he calls out. He looks at them with a strict, paternal sort of love, as a team coach regarding his new recruits might.
“I give these guys my blood. I really do.”
