the Italian Club
Long ago in a galaxy far away....before there was a lumberyard, immigrants came to America from Europe. Among those were the Italians. Like the Irish, Poles, and various other groups, they weren't exactly welcomed with open arms. They coped by sticking to themselves; forming little communities where they were welcomed among their own. For social outings, they had clubs. They'd become members and pay dues and go to these places where they would eat, drink and be merry.
Today there are still holdovers from that day. The parents belong to the Italian Club close to where they live. Their 50th anniversary party was helf there. We've gone to eat with them there on a few occasions. They still pay dues to the place. When you go in, there aren't many people under the age of 60, and I'd venture to guess at least half aren't really Italian, but they all seem to be friends and they enjoy each other's company. Some old guy is singing Louis Prima and Frank Sinatra songs. As Willy Wonka would say, it smells like old people and soap....and Italian food.
Last night the wife and I went out to dinner...a new seafood place near the World Golf Village. We drive into the parking lot...lots of Caddys, Buicks and Mercedes. We walk in and there's this old fat guy on stage with a microphone singing Sinatra. No band or anything...he's singing along with some recorded music, and I'm thinking...what? did we hit karioke night? Cuz the guy ain't all that good. We sit down and order...macadamia nut encrusted mahi mahi for me, and I have a beer. The wife orders coconut shrimp and a red wine, and we observe. The wife notes that it's a nice open place...lots of room...probably a good party spot. I looked at her and said, there's lots of room because they need space between the tables for old people with walkers. Most of the place is well over 60. There's a huge table of...probably 16 people, who apparently have been there a while. They're old..and hammered. The guy on stage is pretty much playing to them, but it becomes more obvious that it's not karioke night. he's the hired entertainment. He's singing Englebert Humperdink and the hammered old folks are trying to dance. Some are doing better than others, but the wife, only half kidding, suggests I help one old lady back to her seat before she hurts herself. I'm thinking, I've never seen my mom that drunk, but if I did, this is probably what it would look like. Then the wife looks at me and says, "This is the Italian Club. Your parents would love this place!" And she was right.
The place looks like it's catering to the older tourist crowd from the World Golf Village. Upon further inspection, there was a sign at the door advertising the entertainment. He was billed as "Big Joe", and he was singing lots of stuff from the 50s.
To be fair, the food was very good, and not outrageously expensive. We'll probably eat there again. The atmosphere isn't unpleasant. It was just funny how you can take a place that looks completely different and serves seafood instead of spaghetti, and turn it into an Italian Club clone.
Today there are still holdovers from that day. The parents belong to the Italian Club close to where they live. Their 50th anniversary party was helf there. We've gone to eat with them there on a few occasions. They still pay dues to the place. When you go in, there aren't many people under the age of 60, and I'd venture to guess at least half aren't really Italian, but they all seem to be friends and they enjoy each other's company. Some old guy is singing Louis Prima and Frank Sinatra songs. As Willy Wonka would say, it smells like old people and soap....and Italian food.
Last night the wife and I went out to dinner...a new seafood place near the World Golf Village. We drive into the parking lot...lots of Caddys, Buicks and Mercedes. We walk in and there's this old fat guy on stage with a microphone singing Sinatra. No band or anything...he's singing along with some recorded music, and I'm thinking...what? did we hit karioke night? Cuz the guy ain't all that good. We sit down and order...macadamia nut encrusted mahi mahi for me, and I have a beer. The wife orders coconut shrimp and a red wine, and we observe. The wife notes that it's a nice open place...lots of room...probably a good party spot. I looked at her and said, there's lots of room because they need space between the tables for old people with walkers. Most of the place is well over 60. There's a huge table of...probably 16 people, who apparently have been there a while. They're old..and hammered. The guy on stage is pretty much playing to them, but it becomes more obvious that it's not karioke night. he's the hired entertainment. He's singing Englebert Humperdink and the hammered old folks are trying to dance. Some are doing better than others, but the wife, only half kidding, suggests I help one old lady back to her seat before she hurts herself. I'm thinking, I've never seen my mom that drunk, but if I did, this is probably what it would look like. Then the wife looks at me and says, "This is the Italian Club. Your parents would love this place!" And she was right.
The place looks like it's catering to the older tourist crowd from the World Golf Village. Upon further inspection, there was a sign at the door advertising the entertainment. He was billed as "Big Joe", and he was singing lots of stuff from the 50s.
To be fair, the food was very good, and not outrageously expensive. We'll probably eat there again. The atmosphere isn't unpleasant. It was just funny how you can take a place that looks completely different and serves seafood instead of spaghetti, and turn it into an Italian Club clone.
Labels: Bizarro World, Family Stuff
John put this out here at 7:05 AM
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