There's an Italian joint in my neighborhood that's set up like an oldschool speakeasy... you go in the front door and in the dark vestibule there's a door to an elevator, you press the elevator button, and then behind you a little peephole opens with a thwack and all you see is some guy's eyeball. "How many?" the guy goes, kinda rudely. You tell him, and then thwack, the peephole closes again. After a momen of standing in the dark vestibule, (maybe more, sometimes), the elevator door opens and the maitre'd, dressed up 20s style, leads you to your table.
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