Is There a Mafia in Salt Lake City?

If there were a restaurant hang out for the mafia in Salt Lake City, this would be it. The restaurant has windows, but there are shutters over them and the decor is 70’s style all trimmed with red velvet and wrought iron. When I first walked in, I noticed a stair case going down. At the bottom of this staircase was a gate blocking off the basement, and that’s where my imagination got started. It was lunch time on a Sunday afternoon, and nearly every Italian Catholic in the city was there. I guess these people like their Sunday brunches.
Old ladies in dresses, proudly displayed their crosses. Young women in shorts displayed their tattoos, and the men acted respectful- but they’re definitely still the law makers. It’s the type of restaurant that’s had a few run-ins with the law, but for the most part, it’s a respectable establishment.
The old lady up front was saying how she didn’t like taking lists to seat people when she put me on the list to be seated. She looked like she’d just come from church too, in a dress and wearing her cross. (I mention the crosses because I live in a community that doesn’t generally wear crosses) I noticed while waiting that it was a very smoothly run operation and the waitresses were perfectly capable of seating parties as they were ready without a list. In fact, I don’t think the list was even consulted at all during my wait. The waitresses (no waiters) all wore short black skirts and white shirts. They were very efficient. When my party was seated, I noticed that there are mirrors on every side of every booth. I suspect it’s so no one can sneak up on you, or maybe it’s just in case you need to check your teeth after the meal… or maybe it’s so you can check people out without them really noticing. I did plenty of checking out…I wonder who was checking me out?
Shortly after we were seated a young father with his young son walked in. They were seated in a booth behind me. The father wore a t-shirt that read “Take no guilt in your desires.” He seemed like one of those “cool” dads to me-about my age, so I was interested when I caught small snippets of their conversation as I sat there eating. Mostly I heard the father.
“No not a magician- a MUSICIAN, not a magician- a MUSICIAN, a person that plays an instrument or makes music.”
Later on…
“Don’t play with your food, you don’t play here. Your food is not a jungle gym. Don’t play with your food!”
I couldn’t help but laugh when I heard that last one, because I’d bet you a million dollars that the guy swore he would never utter those words. I bet that guys dad used to tell him the exact same thing, and I bet he hated it. Now this young father was here, at a mafia restaurant, turning into his father.
Across the way was a group of girls that looked like they wouldn’t think twice about beating me up, but at the same time they seemed feminine and friendly. One look at the check and the girl who had picked it up looked like her eyes were gonna pop out of her head. She let out a gasp. They all broke out into laughter… and I laughed too. They didn’t beat me up.
The meal was great, the waitress was nice, and I was thoroughly entertained the whole time I sat there. (Mostly due to my vivid imagination) As we were leaving though, I couldn’t help but wonder, “Is there a mafia in Salt Lake City?”