FYI South November, 2005
The last Tuesday of every month the upstairs of the Greek Restaurant undergoes an incredible metamorphosis—at six o’clock in the evening it’s is the same comfortable, dimly lit dining room as usual, with perhaps, a few Taiwanese diners enjoying a quiet supper. Around eight-thirty the first foreigner climbs the stairs, looks around confusedly at the diners, then at his watch, and, after realizing he’s arrived too early, he leaves. About nine o’clock he returns with a small group of his friends, purposefully enters the room, and sits at a large table in the back. This group sparks a steady stream of foreigners, gradually building to a near stampede of pale faces, khaki shorts and Birkenstock sandals. By ten o’clock a pungent mix of cigarette smoke and Mediterranean spice wafts through the air, the walls vibrate with English chatter, and every table in the room is covered in appetizers, wine, and Coronas.
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