At one time I was working in the pharma industry and we went to Jersey City to meet with another team.
There was this Italian restaurant that my boss told me we would all meet at, so I drove my little sports car there.
When I arrived, I saw this totally unimpressive looking place with two massive dark stained oak doors, and no windows.
A guy steps off the sidewalk and asks to valet my car, and I look at him... with a clear "like that's going to happen motherfucker" look on my face.
Without pausing the guy looks at me and says "Trust me, 'nothins gonna happen to you car."
(I'm from New Jersey, and sometimes you just know.)
I hand the guy my car keys and go inside.
As absolutely craptastic as the outside looks, the inside is the complete opposite.
There is a very nice and well stocked bar, and there are two HUGE wiseguys each with 45s tucked in their belts.
As I walk by them to the maitre d' I say to myself, "and to think I was worried about my car." One of the big fellows at the bar laughs...
As I walk to our table, there is in fact a senior mob guy in the back corner holding court. Just like in the movies.
I will say that I've never had better ceviche anywhere... period.
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For some reason I was expecting to see a length of chain connected to an eyebolt.?
The bed mat was the giveaway. It drew your eyes to it.
That's some sticky shit right there!
Sent!
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