There are a number of Greek restaurants around this part of the Latin Quarter, but we chose this one for its live Greek music and we're looking forward to a good time with perhaps some singing and dancing, reminiscent of our many wonderful trips to Greece. The food was just OK, and the bouzooki player quite accomplished, but there was a certain air among the staff which I would describe as gloomy nervousness. It was not until we started on our moussaka that it began to make sense. The restaurant owner, Giorgos, appeared and drew up a seat at our table, plopping himself down in between me and my wife. He was age 76, wore only a lower denture (no top teeth) and looked like he'd just come off his fishing boat in samos. He proceeded to spout an endless litany of complements to my wife about how beautiful he is and how he wanted to run away with her, grabbing her arms and trying to drag her off ( so much he left bruises). Apparently he planted a kiss on her lips when I wasn't looking. We'll I'm not one to hit an old man, but I admit I was a bit slow to realize that this wasn't a friendly joke, the guy was actually demented. My wife for her part couldn't understand what the old fella was saying in Greek, and wasn't sure how to react appropriately. Had she understood, the guy would've got a stern slap on the face and probably a boot to what was left of his manhood. I finally got rid of him after about 20 minutes, by which time the moussaka was cold and we couldn't wait to get out of there never to return. I did feel sorry for the staff who said he does this all the time, but he's the boss so they feel powerless. I'm sure the place would get a lot more business if Giorgo helped with the cooking instead of treating his guests like potential ménage a trios prospects..
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