
Ink pens and markers on 10" x 8.5" paper by Joe Chiappetta 2008
While on a date in Chicago near a very European looking restaurant with a shady looking guy standing by the front door, I said to my wife, "Let's go to this restaurant."
Denise replied, "We can't go there. Looks like the Mafia runs the place."
"So what," I responded. "Our money is still good here."
As we approached the front door, the shady man said nothing and before we had a chance to pull the giant strand of rope that opened the front door, another man popped his head out the door and said firmly in an accent, "Sorry, we are closed."
I quickly countered, "But the sign says you're open."
As the inside man ignored us, I turned to the shady man outside, hoping for understanding and asked, "Do you know why they won't let us in?"
With a European accent, the shady man replied, "I don't know. I'm just a guy."
The mystery of the European restaurant remained unsolved, so we went and ate at Ihop that night. Later a friend who lives in the area told us that the Mafia did not run that restaurant (but how would they know for sure). All the more reason for me to go back someday and pull the giant rope that rings the bell. But maybe we won't go back there. I don't know. I'm just a guy.