It Was Nice

I sat down to start reading a new mystery novel, Entombed by Linda Fairstein, that takes place in New York City. The couple is going to a favorite Italian restaurant and the woman mentions that she likes it because the food is great and, as a regular, she is treated like family.

That brought back old memories when I lived in San Antonio. We had the Hemisfair in 1968 and I spent a lot of time there (mostly eating and listening to music) after taking in most of the sights and being a tour guide to family and friends that came in town for a tour.

There were a couple of guys that had an Italian mini restaurant on location. They had been doing the World’s Fair circuit for several years and after this one finished, were tired and wanted to stay in one place.

I was working for an insurance agency part-time. One of our clients owned the building these fellows rented to open their first place. So I just had to go the week it opened.

There is a lot more to this story that I may finish in a couple of days, but the point here is Joe, the “main” guy out front would remember who you were, and after a while, what you liked to drink and eat. A European trait in the restaurant business for just “down home” regular folks. Something we were not use to.

It was nice.