Monday, August 22, 2005


Last Saturday night, on an impulse, I took Gayle and the kids to Marrakesh. No, not the city in Morocco—the Moroccan restaurant in Newport Beach. I worked as a waiter at the Marrakesh in Studio City when I was in college. The owner of this place, a refined gentleman named Ali, was there Saturday night. The guy has not aged a day in 20 years. It’s kinda scary. I could tell by the look in his eye that he could barely recognize me. I’m so much older, balder, fatter, and sexier now. Nevertheless, he took my word that I used to be one of his employees, and bought us a round of drinks. The food was absolutely delicious. As you can see, we had a great time.


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