To the Editor:

Re “When a Pirate Is the Voice of Chivalry,” by Maureen Dowd (column, Oct. 27): In the early ’80s I worked at the corporate headquarters of Alexander & Alexander Services in New York City. A woman, a very proper English senior vice president in her mid-50s, related a story about an overnight flight from New York to London.

Boarding first class, she noticed “a homeless man” sitting next to her seat, asleep. She was horrified, but took her seat. Soon after, he awoke and asked her if she would mind switching seats, saying he much preferred the window seat. Too frightened to do anything else, she consented, and he proceeded to go back to sleep for the remainder of the flight.

Arriving at dawn at a sparsely populated Heathrow, she was dumbfounded to see a crowd develop around the man. She asked an airport attendant who the man was. “Why that’s Keith Richards, ma’am.” She paused, and then asked, “Who’s Keith Richards?” When he mentioned the Rolling Stones, she understood.

She went outside to discover that a torrential downpour left no cabs in sight. After a few minutes, she got a tap on the shoulder. A limo driver said, “Mr. Richards would like to offer you a ride.” She accepted, and said Keith could not have been more charming.